Red vs Blue: Revelation
by BentleyGirl
Summary: The epic final part of the Recollections Trilogy. Please read Reconstruction, Relocated and Recreation to understand this part. Also please read and review. UPDATED! Rated T for swearing
1. For Those Of You Just Joining Us

**Okay readers, I'm back with the final part of the Recollections Trilogy. In my last story, a reader has wondered how I could possibly do this one because the action is completely off the hook, but I am confident that I can hold my own for this and the next stories.**

**Once again, I remind you that I do not own Red vs. Blue or Halo; they belong to the guys who actually made it, you know who I mean.**

**So here we go again!**

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Chapter 1: For Those Of You Just Joining Us…

On a distant planet many light-years from Earth, in the middle of a great snowy mountain range, at the entrance to the valley known as Valhalla, a Spartan-II super soldier in bright purple armor stood on a hill and surveyed the scene. After a while, he turned on the com-link in his helmet and attempted to make contact with Command.

"Come in, Command," he transmitted. "Come in, Command, this is Medical Officer DuFresne. I have arrived at Freelancer Program Simulation Outpost 17." He waited for a reply but he heard only static.

DuFresne tapped the side of his helmet to clear the static while keeping an eye out for trouble. "Command, come in! Come in, this is Medical Officer DuFresne. I have reached FPS Outpost 17!"

"Hey, down here, we're over here!" a voice suddenly rang out.

DuFresne looked round and spotted a Spartan standing outside the Blue Base, waving to him in a very awkward manner. "Hey, come down here!"

"Never mind, Command, I think I see the objective." DuFresne sighed as he switched off the radio and set off into the valley. "Stupid radio doesn't work anyway, what else is new?"

After a few minutes of walking, he reached the Blue Base and spotted the Spartan who'd called him over. His back was turned to him but DuFresne could now see up close that his armor was maroon. "Holy cow! Simmons, is that you?"

In response, the Spartan glanced over his shoulder, showing an anxious looking face with short dark hair, hazel-green eyes and cyborg parts built into his Freon tear-stained cheeks. "Oh, hey Doc. Man, I didn't know they'd sent you."

Doc smiled as he remembered his old nickname. "Yeah, we got the radio call and I was the closest medic so they sent me. But I didn't know it'd be you guys! Small galaxy, huh? Man, we got a lotta catching up to do. So what's up, somebody hurt or what? What's going on?"

Simmons just sighed and stepped aside, revealing the blood-stained body of his pink teammate Donut. "Him."

"Him?" Doc stepped forward, knelt next to Donut and felt for a pulse. "Um, he's dead."

"Yeah, he is," Simmons muttered. "He was shot."

Doc nodded as he noted the bullet wound in Donut's chest. "Um, Simmons, I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, and I _have_ increased my skill as a medic in that time, but dead is still pretty much outside my jurisdiction."

Simmons just bowed his head sadly. "Man, I just didn't know they'd sent _you_."

"Yeah, you said that already." Doc glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "Hey, is everything okay?"

"It's not my fault, Doc," Simmons stammered. "I-I had to make the call, they made me. They needed someone with medical training."

"What're you talkin' about?" Doc got to his feet and turned round… and that's when he noticed that Simmons' wrists were tightly bound together with thick rope.

"I didn't mean for you to get involved," Simmons sobbed, turning his head away. "_I'm sorry,_ really."

Doc looked puzzled. "Sorry about what?"

"He's sorry about us," a new voice replied behind him.

Doc whirled round to find that a Spartan with yellow highlights on his steel-grey armor had stepped out of the Base, holding a machinegun in his hands. "Uh-oh."

But before he could make a move, he suddenly felt a blow to the back of his head and fell to the ground. As his vision blurred, he could see a white-and-brown soldier with a wide-visored helmet stepping out from behind Simmons before everything went black…

Some distance away, in the desert outpost called Sandtrap, everything was starting to settle down. When the aliens had gathered around the base of the tower, Tucker had quickly explained to them how he and his friends had managed to save their god, the monitor that housed the AI Epsilon, and Smith, the alien leader, was able to vouch for them. So Tucker went back to the temple to shut it down, Caboose stayed with the aliens and Sarge left Grif with a very important task while he made repairs on the Warthog Mk 3 v2.

Now some hours later, Tucker made his way up a dune to where his orange frenemy was standing. "Hey Grif, what's up?"

"Hmm?" Grif looked round then he smiled. "Oh, hey Tucker."

"What are you doing?"

"Well, Sarge told me to bury all the bodies from our battle…"

Tucker let out a whistle. "That's a lot of graves. Lotta holes to fill, bow chicka bow wow."

"And now I can't find them." Grif turned to face the plain before him. "See, the bodies were piled up over here, by these stone pillars, and then the wind came up and blew sand all over the damn things."

"So I guess they're already buried," Tucker reasoned. "Good job, dude."

Grif let out a laugh. "I like the way you think."

"Grif, what the hell are you doing up here?" Sarge bellowed, climbing up the dune. "I thought I told you to bury the bodies!"

"He did," Tucker replied. "He buried the shit out of them, look."

Sarge did look and found that the bodies had indeed disappeared. "What the…? I only gave you that order five minutes ago. How did you do it so fast?" He looked over at Tucker. "Did you help him?"

"Help him?' Tucker cried. "Dude, we've been fighting for like eight years, haven't you learned anything about me yet? I'm a lover, not a digger."

"Yeah," Grif agreed. "Maybe he woulda helped me if some of the bodies were dead ladies…" He suddenly grimaced in disgust. "And I realize that sounded a lot creepier than what I intended."

"Well, does someone wanna say a few words?" Sarge asked.

"Words?"

"Yes, these men were soldiers," Sarge replied. "Even if they were enemy soldiers, they still deserve a eulogy."

"Well, don't look at me," Tucker said. "I'm a lover, not a talker." He then smirked at Grif. "Hey dude, you wanna make another sex with dead people joke?"

"No, I think I hit my quota," Grif replied.

"Well, what about your buddy, Mister Cult Leader?" Sarge suggested, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Tucker looked round and spotted Epsilon making another lap around the ruins, delivering another sermon to Smith and his fellow alien acolytes. "It's not _his_ fault. Those aliens just worship this ancient technology, and the people who made it. What's a brother gonna do?"

"Who in Sam Hell worships technology?" Sarge asked.

"Are they from the Internet?" Grif replied.

They listened as Epsilon floated past and gave his sermon. "So there was this guy, said some things to another guy, and the people liked it. And that's pretty much it."

"Yes, this is just very interesting," Caboose muttered from behind the aliens. "I understand everything that is being said. Good."

"Caboose, what are you doing?" Tucker shouted. "Get outta there."

"It's not fair!" Caboose yelled, making his sulky way to the dune. "I worshipped Church way before it was cool to worship him."

"Hey, I already told that's _still not cool_," Grif retorted. "That will _never be cool_, ever!"

Epsilon then floated up to them, followed by the aliens. "Oh hey there guys, how's life among all the non-deities? Pretty lame, I bet! Pretty sure none of _you_'ve been worshipped all day long. _Weak!_"

Behind him, the aliens let out growls of laughter.

"Do you think you guys might be milkin' this just a bit?" Sarge asked.

"Hey, do you want to tell the big group of aliens that they're mistaken and he's _not_ who they think he is?" Tucker pointed out.

"Hmm, I see your point," Sarge conceded. "Hey, your circular holiness! How about delivering the eulogy? We're burying most of these guys because of you anyway."

"_Me?_" Epsilon looked puzzled. "I only lasered one guy."

"Which was awesome," Caboose added.

"I know it was, right?"

"So cool. The laser came out of your face."

"Have you been able to figure out how you did that yet?" Tucker asked.

"No, I think it's just because I got really mad," Epsilon admitted. "Hey, say something to make me angry. See if it happens again."

"You're ugly and nobody likes you," Tucker said quickly.

"You're annoying and your team sucks," Grif put in.

"You're round and you can't wear pants," Caboose added.

Epsilon looked round in amazement. "You guys came up with that really quickly."

"Hey, it pays to be prepared," Tucker replied with a shrug. "Did it work? Are you pissed?"

Epsilon bowed down and shook himself. "No, I think I'm actually kinda depressed now. Caboose is right, I _can't_ wear pants."

"Well, I only said it because everyone is thinking it," Caboose replied regrettably.

"Maybe mad makes a red laser," Tucker assumed. "And depressed will make a blue laser."

Caboose frowned. "Well, I hope we don't find out what makes a brown laser."

"You idiots shut up," Sarge snapped. "Hey Globey, you making a speech or ain't ya?"

"Hey sure, no problem," Epsilon replied, perking up. "I did a sermon just the other day that the aliens _loved_."

"Sermon?" Tucker spluttered. "You just read them the setup guide to our Inkjet printer."

"Yeah, and they eat that gadget stuff up," Epsilon chuckled. floating up the dune. "You gotta know your audience, buddy."

Grif shook his head as he followed the others down the side. "How is it that ever since Caboose revived you, you can't remember anything except how to be a jackass?"

"Some things are hardwired," Tucker muttered.

At the top of the dune, Epsilon turned to face his audience. "Attention, true believers… and other people, we are here today to pay our final, and our first, respects to the dearly departed. But first, I'd like you all to join me in a song, in honor of me." He gave a cough and then sang out, "I am the best-"

"Skip it," Sarge and Grif cut in.

"Fine," Epsilon sighed. "Okay, uh, in the beginning, there was darkness. And uh, and out from the darkness came a voice. And it said…" He trailed off as he looked towards the temple… and suddenly spotted a black figure standing on a boulder just in front of a crashed ship. "And it said… uh… Uh-out- out from the darkness came… Out from the darkness…"

"Is his playback skipping?" Grif hissed.

"I don't know," Tucker replied.

"Maybe he needs a reboot," Sarge suggested. "Good thing I wore my boots. I'll reboot him right in the keister."

Epsilon watched as the figure jumped off the boulder and ran off towards the ruins. "Out from the darkness came uh, someone," he muttered distractedly. "I'll be right back."

As he floated away, the aliens began to grunt and growl in confused and rather disgruntled tones.

"Uh oh, the natives are getting restless," Tucker hissed. "Caboose, get up there and stall them. I'll figure out what's going on."

As he and the Reds set off in pursuit of Epsilon, Caboose ran up the dune and addressed the aliens. "Yes, and out of the darkness came _someone!_ And that someone was me! Yes, and I said, funerals are sad, and we should have a birthday party instead, yes! Yes, let there be cake! Um, hallelujah… gesundheit."

The aliens just glanced at each other in greater confusion.

Meanwhile, Epsilon kept following the mysterious black figure. "Hey you, hold on a second! Who are you? Hey, I'm talking to you! What are you, deaf?"

Just then the figure ran into a nearby building – and suddenly the desert shimmered and changed into a valley. The ruin became a large metallic base and he could hear the thundering roar of a waterfall nearby. "What?"

"Church!" Tucker called out.

"Huh?" Epsilon turned round as Tucker came running up.

"Hey Church, what are you doing out here, man?" Tucker asked in annoyance. "The aliens don't like it when you leave them alone, and I don't like it when the aliens don't like stuff."

Epsilon turned back towards the base, only to see an old ruin in the middle of the silent desert. "Did you see him?"

"Who?"

"The person, from the darkness, the- no, that's not right, that's not right. Well, did you see?"

"What's he talking about?" Sarge called as he and Grif caught up.

"I think he's having another memory flash," Tucker guessed.

"A what?"

"Random memories that keep coming back to him," Tucker explained. "He's been getting 'em more and more lately and I don't think he has any control over 'em. He gets all emo too. It's annoying, like having a chick around, but without all the fun parts of having a chick around, _like bonin'!_"

"You should take out his memory unit and blow on it," Sarge suggested. "That'll fix it."

Just then Caboose came running up to them. "Is he having more memories?"

"Yep," Tucker said.

"Did he remember me this time?"

"Nope."

Epsilon was still staring at the ruin. "I saw a canyon, and uh, a waterfall. And there was some kinda dark figure there."

"Was the dark figure me?" Caboose asked.

"Caboose, we'll let you know if you come up, _I promise_." Tucker rubbed his chin in thought. "A waterfall, huh? That's the second time you've talked about that. But where could that be?"

Grif put up a hand. "Uh, that sounds like our new bases."

"It does?" Caboose then gasped. "It does!"

"What?" Tucker cried. "Caboose, why didn't you mention that the first time?"

Caboose looked very sheepish. "Uh, I didn't remember it?"

"You didn't remember a waterfall?" Tucker yelled. "Dude, that's like not remembering your first girlfriend turned out to have a dick, right Grif?"

Grif groaned and slapped his hand on his visor. "Sometimes I'm sorry I even told you that story."

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**Ooh, a new mystery for this part and it sounds intriguing…**


	2. Drink Your Ovaltine

**I can't think of anything to say for this chapter, so here's an asterisk to enjoy: ***

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Chapter 2: Drink Your Ovaltine

While Tucker was berating Caboose on his memory lapse, Sarge went off towards the Warthog to think and Grif followed him. "Hey Sarge, what's wrong?"

"I don't like this, Grif," Sarge muttered.

"What, the vision?" Grif said.

"It's a waterfall!" Tucker's voice rang out. "It's literally impossible to forget, like girlfriend dick!"

"Yeah," Sarge sighed. "I've never been what you'd call a 'new age' kinda guy…"

"You don't say," Grif murmured.

"But this bowling ball seems to be on a heck of a roll, pun intended, what with the flying and the laser shooting and all."

"And he can lift stuff without arms. That's pretty cool."

"That too. What if there's something to this whole vision thing? We need to call Simmons and find out if he's seen anything out of the ordinary."

"How?" Grif asked. "Our long range radio here got destroyed, and we don't have enough signal power in the jeeps to reach him."

Sarge just smiled and glanced over to Epsilon. "I think I have an idea how to fix that."

Meanwhile, at the Blue Base at Valhalla, Doc slowly opened his eyes and sat up with a groan. "Ow, my head…" He lifted his hand to rub it but he felt both arms get raised. Then his vision cleared and he discovered that his wrists were bound with tightly-knotted rope. He also couldn't see his HUD in front of him, which meant that his helmet had been removed.

Next to him, Simmons let out a sigh of relief. "Doc, you're alive. Good."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Doc muttered. "Why'd you hit me?"

"I didn't hit you, they did." Simmons pointed and Doc looked up to see the grey soldier and the white soldier looking out into the valley.

"Jerks," Doc scowled. "Who are they?"

"The dark one's Washington. He's a Freelancer."

"Oh great, 'cos those guys are always such a blast to hang around with," Doc grumbled sarcastically.

"The big one, we call the Meta."

"But rumor had it those guys were disbanded," Doc recalled. "Everyone went to jail."

"Yeah, well I guess they got paroled," Simmons sighed.

"You two, quiet," Washington snapped.

The Meta was pressing buttons on his armor but they only let out sparks and he let out a growl of anger.

"Then you need to stop trying to use _all_ of them," Wash berated. "You just don't have the resources anymore."

"The Meta killed a bunch of other Freelancers and took their equipment," Simmons hissed.

Doc nodded as he watched the Meta disappear and then reappear again in a flash of sparks. "Like the invisibility?"

"Yeah, and the shield and the thing that slows down time," Simmons agreed. "He also stole their AI fragments, but those all got wiped out. Now something seems, I don't know… wrong with him."

"An AI fragment? _That_ I remember." Doc let out a chuckle. "Hey Simmons, remember that AI I had for a while? That thing was crazy."

At this, the Meta whirled round and suddenly, with superhuman speed, he darted forward, grabbed Doc around the throat and hoisted him off his feet. "Yipes!"

"Halt, Meta, stop!" Wash cried out.

Doc grabbed at his throat and choked out, "Simmons, help me!"

Wash stepped up to Doc. "You, what did you just say?"

"Th-that I had one of your AI units?" Doc stammered breathlessly.

With a growl, the Meta tightened his grip on Doc, making the medic gasp and choke.

"Stand down," Wash ordered. "You said _had_. Where is it now?"

"Gone," Doc gasped.

"Which one?"

"Uh, uh the mean one."

"Its name, did you know its name?"

"Uh, O'Malley- I mean uh, Omega."

The Meta let out a hiss of annoyance and released his grip, dropping Doc and sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Well, _that_ one's been accounted for," Wash muttered.

"I-I only had it for a short time," Doc coughed, rubbing his bruised neck.

"Well then, good," Wash sneered. "You know what to look for. I need a complete scan of my friend here. And I would recommend you don't use any needles. He hates needles, and we wouldn't wanna make him angry, now would we?"

Behind him, the Meta cracked his knuckles with a growl and Doc gulped nervously.

Back at Sandtrap, Sarge had fixed the radio in the Warthog and switched it on. "Alright, let's try this. You ready, antenna ball?"

"I told you not to call me that!" Epsilon snapped, balanced on the tip of the antenna at the front of the Warthog. "And hurry it up; this metal rod isn't exactly in a comfortable place."

"Hey, do you wanna find out about your vision or don't ya?" Grif asked.

Sarge switched on the radio and tuned it to the Valhalla Red Base frequency. "Come in, Valhalla Outpost #1, come in!" But only static hissed in reply. "Red Base, do you read me? Come in! Give me some more power, shot-put."

Epsilon focused his energy and at last a voice spoke out over the radio. "Uh Sarge, yeah, hi."

"Who is this?" Sarge yelled. "Identify yourself."

"It's me, Simmons," the voice replied. "Sorry, Sir."

"How is everything going here, Simmons?"

"Here? Uh, fine I guess. Everything's good. How 'bout you guys?"

"Mission is complete. We're preparing to head out soon."

"What was that?" Simmons asked, with a nervous edge to his voice. "Sorry, some static here... This radio's a little messed up. It's been a bit rainier here."

"I said we're comin' back soon," Sarge repeated.

"Oh that's great. Hey, when do you think that'll be exactly?"

"Hard to say, Simmons," Sarge replied. "We'll let you know."

At Valhalla, Simmons let out a silent gulp as he felt Wash's pistol behind his neck. "Okay Sarge, sounds good."

"Over and out," Sarge said and the long-distance radio went dead.

"Okay, good," Wash said, pulling Simmons back to his feet. "Now get back over there."

As Simmons was pushed back, Doc looked up in hope. "That was your Sergeant?"

"Yeah," Simmons muttered as he sat up.

"You think he'll come help us?"

"No, I couldn't say anything to him," Simmons admitted with a sigh. "If they come, they'll be walking straight into a trap."

Back in the desert, Grif carefully removed Epsilon from the top of the antenna. "Thanks for the help."

"Yeah, whatever," Epsilon muttered, floating away in a zig-zag manner. "I'm not gonna fly straight for a week now."

"Simmons sounded good," Grif said to Sarge. "I guess he's got everything under control."

Sarge just stared at the radio for a while then he turned round with a serious look on his face. "Donut and Lopez are dead and someone has taken Simmons prisoner."

"What?" Grif cried. "Everything sounded fine to me."

"Think about it. How do you answer the radio at our base?"

"Thank you for calling Red Base, this is Private Grif, how may I assist you today?" Grif replied automatically.

"And we've drilled that since day one! Simmons answered 'Hi'. That was my first clue!"

Grif shrugged. "So maybe he's just ups-"

"He also said the radio was in disrepair," Sarge interrupted. "When has Lopez _ever_ let something go without the proper maintenance?"

"Never," Grif realized.

"And look at the time."

"I can't, my clock's broken."

"It's 17:30. And everybody knows that 17:30 is…"

"Donut's daily wine and cheese hour!" Grif gasped.

"I didn't hear any tinkling glasses, did you?"

"You're right."

"He also mentioned that the weather was rainier. And as we all know, Mt. Rainer is the biggest landmass in the state of… Washington."

"We do?" Grif hastily corrected himself. "Uh, I mean, we do!"

"How many Washingtons do we know?"

"Did he mean, _Agent_ Washington?"

"And who's the biggest mass we know, associated with Washington?"

"The Meta!"

"So," Sarge concluded, "the Meta and Washington have teamed up to kill Donut and Lopez, and now they're holding Simmons and Doc prisoner."

"We have to help them!" Grif yelled then he frowned. "Wait, _Doc?_ How do you know _he's_ there?"

"Please, Grif, it's so obvious," Sarge scoffed. "I don't wanna insult your intelligence by explaining every little detail."

"Oh, uh, okay."

"Come on, we're going to Valhalla." Sarge grabbed his shotgun and leapt into the passenger seat of the Warthog. "It's time for a rescue mission!"

"Rescue mission?" Grif cried, climbing into the driver's seat. "How the hell are we supposed to fight Wash and the Meta?"

"Don't worry, I have a plan," Sarge reassured as they drove off. "How good are the seatbelts in this jeep?"

"Good, I guess," Grif replied then he looked over at Sarge. "Wait, why?"

Behind them, Epsilon peeked out from behind the pillar. "Valhalla, huh?"

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**Oh boy, action is on the way again!**


	3. Upon Further Review

**Alright, my first genuinely intense action scene that I hadn't made up! This is gonna be good.**

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Chapter 3: Upon Further Review

At the Blue Base at Valhalla, Washington untied Doc so that he could do a quick examination of the Meta. After ten minutes, the former Agent approached him. "Doc, what did you find in your scan of the Meta?"

"Um, it's hard to say." Doc put his medical scanner back on his belt then ran a hand through his short brown hair. "He's added so much non-standard equipment to his armor that I can't really get a good reading on him."

"I didn't ask you to run an intelligence report on him," Wash growled. "I wanted a medical one."

"His power systems are stressed from trying to maintain it all. Is he missing some component that controls all this-"

"_Physically_," Wash cut in. "Is he fine, physically?"

"Yeah, I guess," Doc muttered.

"Good. Next time answer the question I ask." Wash then retied Doc's wrists and pushed him over to Simmons. "I'm watching you two. Give me any trouble and you're dead. Don't believe me, ask your buddy about his friend Donut."

As Wash turned away, Doc gave a nervous glance at Simmons. "Hey, he does realize that I'm the one who scanned Donut's dead body, right?"

"I think he was just making a point." Simmons then looked at Doc's scanner and he gave a shrewd smile. "Hey, I have an idea! Give me your scanner."

"My scanner?" Doc asked puzzled. "Why? It can't be used as a weapon."

"Maybe it can," Simmons replied. "If I can overload the power-cell, you may be able to fire an over-charged burst. It could short out the Meta's systems. Either that or…" He tailed off.

"Or what?"

"Huh, what? No-no-no-no, no 'or', just that, forget the 'or'."

Doc's eyes narrowed. "You were going to say explode, weren't you?"

"…Nooooo."

"Were you thinking explode?"

"Just give me the damn scanner," Simmons snapped and Doc obeyed.

By the railing, the two ex-Freelancers scanned the valley for a while when the Meta pointed out some movement by the Red Base. Wash zoomed in the vision in his helmet until he could see a red figure wandering around the building.

"Oh Simmons," the figure called out. "Simmons, where are you? Yoo-hoo!"

"It looks like just one of them," Wash muttered.

The Meta let out an angry growl.

"I don't know if he has it," Wash replied. "I can't see from this far."

The Meta turned to go but Wash held him back. "No, you stay here and guard these two. I'll go out there."

The Meta hissed in query.

"If he gives me any trouble, just kill the prisoners and come help me." With that, Wash stepped onto the grav-lift and was shot out into the valley.

Doc, who had listened in on the conversation, looked over to Simmons nervously. "I hope your friend doesn't give him any trouble."

Simmons sighed grimly as he worked on the scanner with great difficulty. "If it's one of _my_ friends, we won't stand a chance."

At Sandtrap, Tucker made his way over to the campsite. "Yo, dudes!" he called out. "Sarge, Grif, where'd you go?" When no reply came, he let out a groan. "Oh, great."

"Um, hey Tucker," Caboose called out behind him.

"Yeah, what's up dude?" Tucker asked, looking round the camp.

"Have you seen Church?"

"No, I'm looking for the Red guys. It looks like they fixed their jeep and took off."

"Oh, well that's not good."

"Maybe Church went with them, or maybe they took him, I don't know dude."

Caboose gulped nervously. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I don't think that would happen."

"What?" Tucker asked, glancing over his shoulder. "How the fuck would you know?"

Caboose let out a sheepish chuckle. "Because if he was gone, I think some people who have been looking for him might be really mad that he's not here, and we might have to explain to those people _why_ he's not here, and those people might not like our explanation, and those people might hurt us with plasma guns and plasma grenades."

Tucker turned round to ask Caboose what he was talking about, but his voice failed as he saw that Smith and the other aliens were standing right behind Caboose, growling like angry dogs and clutching their weapons tightly. "Oh… right…"

"I mean the aliens," Caboose hissed.

"Yeah, I figured that out," Tucker gulped.

Back at Valhalla, Sarge finished his search of the Red Base and made his way over to a large wall built into one side of the valley. "Maroon 1, Maroon 1, where are you?"

Nearby Washington peeked out from behind a boulder. "Great, this guy…" Then he stepped out and pointed his machinegun at Sarge. "Freeze! Stay where you are. Take off your helmet and turn around."

Sarge did so and his eyebrows furrowed over his squinted eyes. "Well, well, if it isn't our good buddy, Agent Washington. And just what are you doing here?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Sarge," Wash snapped. "I think you know why I'm here. Where are the rest of your guys? Where's Epsilon?"

"Somewhere safe," Sarge replied.

Wash scowled. "You can either tell me, or you can tell the Meta back at the base."

Sarge gripped his shotgun tightly. "The Meta is here?"

"Yes. And he _really_ wants a chance to repay you for all the trouble you caused him."

"I seem to recall you caused him some of that trouble yourself."

"Situation's changed. Now drop your weapons and your helmet."

With a sigh, Sarge tossed his shotgun down with his helmet and Wash picked them up. "Just so you know, I'm going to want that back in a minute."

"I said drop your weapon," Wash growled.

"All my weapons?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Sarge asked, drawing out his magnum. "Maybe I can just keep the pistol. You know these things aren't as effective as they used to be. At least, that's what people say."

"Drop it, now!" Wash demanded and Sarge reluctantly obeyed. "Good. Now march."

But Sarge just folded his arms. "Son, you can insult me, you can ambush me, you can even take away my weapons, but if you think I'm gonna set one single pinky toe inside Blue Base without my _shotgun_, you must not know who you're dealin' with."

"I said move," Wash ordered.

"And I said shotgun."

"Yes, I have your shotgun."

"No, I mean… _shot gun!_" This time, Sarge glanced towards the wall.

"What is this?" Wash scoffed."You think I'm going to give you back your shotgun because you asked?"

"I said shotgun!" Sarge bellowed at the wall. "Shotgun, dammit!"

"Oh yeah, shotgun!" a voice hissed behind the wall. "That's my cue."

"What?" Wash glowered at Sarge. "What are you up to?" Then a loud vrooming roar reached his ears. "Wait, what is that noise? Do I hear a-"

Suddenly the wall exploded into pieces as, like a wrecking ball, the Warthog Mk 3 v2 burst straight through it, Grif behind the wheel! Sarge quickly dived out of the way, but Wash was taken completely by surprise. "-CAR?!"

He dropped Sarge's helmet and turned to run, but the Warthog smashed right into him and dragged him under the bumper.

"Ha-hah, how's my bumper taste, asshole?" Grif cried out in triumph. But then Wash stuck his hand over the front and grabbed onto the bonnet. "Uh-oh!"

With some effort and a near slip, Wash pulled himself onto the bonnet and raised his machinegun. "Oh no!" Grif ducked down sideways behind the dashboard as Wash opened fire, shattering the windscreen. "Yikes!"

Quickly Grif slammed his foot onto all six pedals at once and the Warthog swerved round sideways, launching Wash off the bonnet and across the valley. As he flew, Wash tossed his machinegun aside and drew out the shotgun, but as he passed a large boulder, Sarge snatched the gun back from him, much to the former Freelancer's surprise. "Huh?" he cried - seconds before he crashed into a pile of fusion coil barrels.

"See?" Sarge yelled out, putting his helmet back firmly onto his head. "I told you I'd get it back."

Grif pulled up next to the rock, allowing Sarge to take the passenger seat. "How about next time we use a code word, we choose something you _don't_ say every five seconds?"

"Just drive, numbnuts," Sarge grunted.

Grif drove the Warthog in a circle round the barrels as Wash staggered to his feet, completely dazed. Sarge then stood up in the seat and pointed his shotgun out with one hand. Wash scowled in anger. "Son of a bitch…"

Sarge smirked in triumph. "Agent Wash, you just got-" Then the shotgun fired and the barrels exploded in a burst of flame.

"Oh dammit, I messed up my one-liner," Sarge groaned as Grif drove off towards the Blue Base.

Meanwhile, Simmons finished his work on the scanner and looked up to see the Meta was still staring into the valley. "Ok now's our chance, Doc! Hit him with an overcharge. It should overload at least one of his systems."

Doc looked nervous. "Um, you do it."

"What, me?" Simmons cried. "I don't even know how to fire that thing."

"Just pull the trigger and let go," Doc instructed. "It's super easy."

"No, no, no, you're trained with it," Simmons insisted, pressing the scanner into Doc's hands. "You do it. Go!"

Doc raised the scanner but then gulped in fear. "What if I miss? What if it doesn't do anything but make him mad? I already made him mad once and that really didn't work out really well."

"Well, then we'll improvise," Simmons muttered.

"Yeah, I don't feel very comfortable with that answer," Doc whimpered.

Suddenly there was the sound of an explosion and Doc looked up to see a plume of smoke billowing from behind the Red Base. "What the heck was that?"

"Uh-oh," Simmons gulped. "I just have a bad feeling that someone just caused him trouble."

The Meta watched the smoke for a while then turned on his prisoners with an angry growl.

"Oh no!" Simmons yelped, ducking his head down. "Improvise, improvise!"

With a squeak of terror, Doc closed his eyes as he raised the scanner and squeezed the trigger…

* * *

**And we'll find out next time if Simmons' plan works.**


	4. Recovering One

**We last left Doc about to open fire on the Meta. Let's now see what happens next.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Recovering One

After a long journey of following the Reds at a distance, Epsilon finally reached the valley of Valhalla and spotted the huge gaping hole in the wall. "Whoa. Guess they came this way." He floated through the hole and set off into the valley, humming softly to himself.

Meanwhile at the Blue Base, Simmons finished his work on the scanner and looked up to see the Meta was still staring into the valley. "Ok now's our chance, Doc! Hit him with an overcharge. It should overload at least one of his systems."

Doc looked nervous. "Um, you do it."

"What, me?" Simmons cried. "I don't even know how to fire that thing."

"Just pull the trigger and let go," Doc instructed. "It's super easy."

"No, no, no, you're trained with it," Simmons insisted, pressing the scanner into Doc's hands. "You do it. Go!"

Doc raised the scanner but then gulped in fear. "What if I miss? What if it doesn't do anything but make him mad? I already made him mad once and that really didn't work out really well."

"Well, then we'll improvise," Simmons muttered.

"Yeah, I don't feel very comfortable with that answer," Doc whimpered.

Suddenly there was the sound of a great explosion and Doc looked up to see a plume of smoke billowing out from behind the Red Base. "What the heck was that?"

"Uh-oh," Simmons gulped. "I have a bad feeling that someone just caused him trouble."

The Meta watched the smoke for a while then turned on his prisoners with an angry growl.

"Oh no!" Simmons yelped, ducking his head down. "Improvise, improvise!"

As the Meta charged towards them, Doc closed his eyes, raised his scanner and pulled the trigger. Suddenly a blast of green energy shot out from the scanner and hit the Meta square on the chest, sending him and his brute shot flying backwards against the wall. At the same time, a small spark burnt through Doc's ropes, freeing his wrists.

With an angry growl, the Meta got to his feet, his armor sparking with green electricity, and charged at Doc again. The medic yelped and covered his head as the Meta raised his fist… but then suddenly the rogue Freelancer froze mid-punch like someone had hit the pause button.

"Am I dead?" Doc squeaked. "Am I dead?"

Simmons got to his feet and let out a laugh of disbelief. "Doc, you did it!"

Doc lifted his head and stared in amazement. "He's frozen."

"No, it looks like you overloaded his time distortion unit." Simmons stepped up to the brute shot and used its blade to cut through his bonds. "You must have caused some kind of inversion. Instead of making everything _else_ slow, it made _him_ slow."

"Oh yeah!" Doc cheered. "Score one for the pacifist! How do you like me now, Meta?"

Simmons grabbed his weapons and his and Doc's helmet then realised the medic was still staring at the slow-moving Meta. "Um Doc, I wouldn't get too close to him if I were you."

"Why?" Doc scoffed, taking his helmet back. "What's he gonna do, beat me up over the course of the next two weeks?"

"Well, technically he's not actually moving slower, he's moving at the same speed just over a longer period of time."

Doc frowned. "Huh?"

"It's relativistic," Simmons explained. "His fist still travels at the same velocity; we just view it from a faster timeframe. Therefore, it _looks_ slowed down, but theoretically it should still carry the same force."

Doc glanced at the Meta's fist now inches from his face then chuckled. "Nah, see? It's moving slower."

At that moment, the Meta's fist made impact with Doc's face. In his slowed-down state, it looked like he was just brushing Doc's cheek with his knuckles; however Doc was suddenly thrown backwards like he'd been hit by a charging rhino.

"WHOOOOOAAAAA!" he screamed as he flew before crashing right into the wall. Simmons flinched as he made impact then he looked up to see Doc embedded into the wall in a pose to rival Han Solo's frozen in carbonite scene. "Ow…"

"See?" Simmons scolded. "That's what you get for arguing with science. Stupid bitch…"

Doc struggled to pull himself free, but only his head and lower arms came loose. "Simmons, get me outta this wall."

Simmons stepped forward and checked the medic over. "Hmmm, how do I do this?" He grabbed Doc's chest, braced his foot on the wall and tugged with all his might.

"You're not pulling from my center," Doc groaned.

"From the center? What the fuck is the center?" Simmons grunted.

"Get down and pull from the groin."

Simmons tried that but that didn't work either so he placed one hand behind Doc's head and the other on his arm, braced both feet on the wall and pulled really hard, but try as he might, he just couldn't get Doc free.

"It feels like you're saving your strength," Doc yelled. "Don't save your strength." Then he gulped and pointed out. "Hurry Simmons, I think the big guy's speeding back up!"

Simmons spun round and quickly saw that Doc was right. The Meta was turning towards his brute shot and he was definitely moving slightly faster than snail's pace. "Oh shit…"

"Simmons, where are you?" Sarge called up as he and Grif drove up to the Base. "Come out here!"

"I'm here!" Simmons called out. "Hold on a second!" He put his helmet back on then turned back to the trapped medic. "Doc, it looks like I can't get you out."

"Yes you can!" Doc shouted. "You haven't really tried yet!"

"I know," Simmons sighed, patting the medic's chest. "You're right, I should think about the mission."

"What? No!" Doc cried. "Not unless this is a rescue mission; I'm part of the mission."

Simmons nodded grimly and placed the medic's helmet down by the wall. "It's a noble sacrifice you're making here."

"No, no, I'm not sacrificing," Doc pleaded. "I'm not noble, at all. Listen to me, you don't wanna go. I don't want you to go!"

But Simmons just ran off toward the outer wall. "I'll always remember you, bye!"

"Start by remembering me right now!" Doc yelled. "Simmons!"

By then, the Meta had recovered his brute shot and was now moving at normal speed. With a growl, he raised his gun and pointed it at Simmons as the Red climbed onto the wall.

"Hurry it up!" Sarge called out as the Warthog drew up to the Base.

Just as the Meta fired an RPG, Simmons leapt off the wall with a scream and, just as the Warthog drove past, he grabbed onto the barrel of the turret but his momentum sent it spiraling around several times before ending up pointing back towards the Base.

"Simmons, stop showing off and get in already!" Sarge bellowed.

"This isn't on purpose!" Simmons yelped.

On the Base's upper level, the Meta fired more RPGs at the retreating Reds. As the jeep hit a bump, Simmons lost his grip on the turret and ended up hanging from its back bumper, scraping along the ground.

"No, wait, wait, wait!" he yelled out. "Guys, guys, just slow down a little, why don't you-" But then the Warthog entered the river and Simmons' yells were replaced by terrified gurgling.

"What did he say?" Sarge asked as they drove out.

The Meta let out an angry roar then he ran into the grav-lift and was catapulted into the valley.

"Grif, incoming!" Sarge yelled.

"Don't worry," Grif reassured. "We'll just do what we did last time."

But as the Meta neared the ground, he performed a half-twist somersault and landed right on the Warthog's front, crushing the bonnet, catapulting Sarge and Grif out of their seats and sending the jeep flipping up into the air, all at the same time!

As the jeep tumbled, Simmons clung onto the bumper for dear life. "I'm pissed to hold on, but I'm scared to let go!"

Then just before the jeep hit the ground, the Meta raised his brute shot and fired, sending it barreling towards the other Reds.

"Look out!" Grif grabbed Sarge and pulled him aside, seconds before the burning Warthog smashed into a large boulder. The bumper Simmons held onto came off sending the Red sprawling and one of the tires bounced away from the wreck and rolled right over Grif. "Ow."

"That was the worst driving of all time," Sarge grunted, struggling to his feet.

"Because that wasn't driving," Grif retorted. "That was flying and burning!"

"Touché," Sarge conceded.

Simmons then came stumbling dizzily towards them, still holding the bumper. "Whoa-oh, what happened, where am I?" he moaned before collapsing to the ground in a faint.

The Meta let out a growl and approached the dazed Reds.

"Get ready," Sarge snarled, whipping out his shotgun. "Remember, he can't kill all of us."

"Why _can't_ he kill all of us?" Grif asked.

Sarge frowned. "Hmm, that's a good point."

Simmons then sat up and shook his head to clear the dizziness. "Hey, I'm okay."

The Meta lifted his brute shot and took aim.

"Get ready," Sarge hissed.

"This is not going to be good," Grif whimpered.

Just then Epsilon came floating up to them. "Hey guys, what's going on?" He looked around and noticed the burning Warthog. "Man, your jeep got **fucked up!**" Then he turned and spotted the Meta. "Who's the big dude? Sup, Gigantor?"

The Meta let out a hiss and took a swing at Epsilon who quickly ducked out the way. "Whoa! You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"What're you doing here?" Grif cried.

"Who cares," Sarge cut in. "Just lead him out of here!"

"Where?" Epsilon asked.

"Anywhere that's not here," Sarge replied.

Epsilon nodded and set off into the valley. "Hey, come on big boy, follow me! Look how shiny I am."

With an angry growl, the Meta set off after the monitor.

"Come on!" Sarge yelled, dashing off towards the wall.

"What the fuck was that floating thing?" Simmons asked as Grif helped him to his feet.

"We'll explain later, _run!_" Grif replied as they set off after Sarge.

Meanwhile Epsilon made his way towards the Blue Base, goading the Meta to follow him. "Come on, big boy! Come this way. Wait a minute, I know this place."

He floated up to the main entrance and peered around. "Hello? Somebody in there?"

Just then the Meta caught up and tried to grab him again. "Oh shit," Epsilon yelped, floating just out of reach. "You scared the crap outta me."

By then the Reds had made to the wall.

"Quick, everyone, through the hole!" Sarge called out. "Just sayin' that makes me miss Donut."

Grif helped Simmons climb through the hole then followed him out. "What are we gonna do? We can't outrun him and our jeep is destroyed."

"We have to seal the opening," Sarge replied.

"Do we have any grenades?" Simmons asked.

"Negative," Sarge sighed. "We need a plan of action."

Just then Epsilon floated through the hole. "Hey, I know he's a friend of yours, but I gotta tell you, that guy with the shiny head is kind of an asshole."

"Well if you're here, then where's the-" Simmons broke off with a gasp as his question was answered. "Oh no, there's the Meta! Come on, we have to hurry!"

"I have an idea." Grif then glared at Epsilon. "Hey, you, dipshit!"

"You talking to me?" the AI asked.

"Yeah, you," Grif retorted. "This is all your fault, you stupid piece of junk. You got us in this mess."

"_Me?_ It was your friend we had to rescue."

"Ah bullshit, now the Meta's coming up here and he's gonna kill all of us, starting with you."

"What are you doing?" Sarge asked then he noticed Grif winking behind his visor and smiled. "Oh I get it."

"I wasn't even looking for you guys," Epsilon shouted. "I was trying to find-"

"Oh, can it, you overgrown ornament!" Sarge cut in.

"Oh, now _you_ wanna start?" Epsilon retorted.

"Hey, I'm not done with you yet, ball bearing," Grif yelled.

"That's rude."

"Your mother takes it in the exhaust port!" Sarge cried.

Grif turned to his teammate. "Come on, Simmons, help us."

"I don't even know what you're doing," Simmons said puzzled.

"Your mother gets paddled like a pinball!" Sarge shouted.

"Hey, let's leave mothers outta this!" Epsilon snapped.

"We're trying to increase the stress level," Grif explained.

"We need some insults," Sarge added.

"Um, okay." Simmons cleared his throat then yelled, "Grif, you're so fat you broke your arm and gravy came out. Sarge, I find a lot of your tactical decisions to be questionable if not downright mediocre."

"Not insults for _us_, Simmons, for him!" Sarge snapped.

"I don't understand the rules of your stupid game," Simmons wailed. "I just got here!"

"Ah, you guys are idiots," Epsilon sighed.

"This isn't working," Grif muttered. "We need something to make him **mad**, _really_ mad."

"Has he seen the last episode of The Sopranos yet?" Simmons suggested.

A growl behind them made Epsilon turn round and he spotted two figures approaching the hole. "Uh oh, look out, it's the big guy!" His eye narrowed slightly. "And there's-"

"Get them, Meta!" the second figure called out. "Get them!"

"WASHINGTON!" Suddenly Epsilon's eye glowed bright red and a laser beam shot out and blasted around the hole, causing the wall to collapse over the hole and blocking the way for Washington and the Meta.

As the dust settled, Epsilon blinked and stared at the blockage. "What? No, open it up! I have to go back!"

"Go back?" Sarge spluttered. "Son, are you crazy? After what we just went through to get outta there?"

"No, _he'll find her!_" Epsilon breathed. "Don't you understand? I can't let them… get to her… first…" Then his eye faded to black and he fell to the ground with a clatter.

"Wow, I guess he ran out of juice," Grif said.

"He's had a hard day, let him sleep it off," Sarge murmured. "Load him up, let's hit the road."

Grif knelt down, picked up the monitor and set off after Sarge.

"So what is this thing, some kinda pet?" Simmons asked.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Grif replied. "Come on, I'll fill you in."

On the other side of the wall, the Meta let out an angry growl and slammed his fist into the debris.

"Don't worry," Wash reassured. "We'll find them again. We just need some leads." He turned towards the Blue Base. "And I know exactly who to ask."

At that moment, Doc was still struggling in vain to get out of the wall. "Hey guys? A little help here," he called out. "Hello? Assholes…"

* * *

**Poor Doc, left behind once again.**


	5. Fourth and Twenty

**Back to the desert we go for this chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 5: Fourth and Twenty

"Go away, bad aliens!" Caboose shouted.

At Sandtrap, the Blues had been chased around the ruins by the angry aliens. But Tucker managed to convince the aliens that Caboose had been in charge of keeping an eye on their god Epsilon so it was his fault that he was gone. So now Caboose had climbed onto a rocky pillar out of reach of the aliens.

"Shoo, aliens, shoo!" he bellowed. "Rolled-up newspaper!"

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you lost their all-powerful deity," Tucker jeered from the sidelines.

"I didn't lose him," Caboose retorted. "He left, or maybe he lost himself, or maybe the Reds took him, I don't- OW!" He yelped as a dart hit him in the leg. "Stop that!"

"Well, until the Reds come back, they need somebody to blame." Tucker shrugged. "Better you than me, man."

Caboose ducked to avoid a grenade thrown at him by Smith, the alien leader. "Tucker, help me."

"Yeah, dude, I don't know. I don't really wanna get in between an angry mob and their religious iconography. And I should know. I used to date an Italian girl."

"But he's not really gone," Caboose called. "It's all made up. You know that."

The aliens turned towards with growls of confusion.

"Whoa dude, I don't know shit," Tucker muttered, backing slowly away. "That sounds like straight up blasphemy. You guys gonna put up with this shit?"

"Blarg," Smith grunted.

"I know dude," Tucker chuckled. "That's what I'm saying. You took the blarg right out of my mouth."

One alien pounced up and tried to grab Caboose but just fell short. "Tucker, they're going to eat me!"

"Caboose, shut the fuck up," Tucker snapped. "They're not gonna eat you, they're just gonna prosecute you and kill you, stop being such a baby."

Caboose then looked up and spotted three figures approaching the ruins. "Look, the Reds, they're back. And they have your worshippy guy."

"What?" Tucker looked round and saw Sarge climbing up the dune behind the aliens.

"Hey Blue," Sarge called out. "We're back and we got Simmons too. Where's the water can? Oh also, you got any spare jeeps around here? I don't wanna get into it but we've identified a tactical weakness in the hood of the current models." He then looked up and saw the aliens gathered around the spire. "Oh, uh what're you guys doing? Killing Caboose? That's cool."

"There he is!" Caboose yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at Sarge. "He is the one who took Church! _Get him!_"

With angry growls, the aliens turned and glowered at Sarge who took a step back and gulped in fright, suddenly feeling like Scooby-Doo surrounded by a horde of monsters. "Ruh-roh…"

Meanwhile at the campsite, Simmons did a quick examination of Epsilon while Grif went to get some water. "How's Floaty McGee?" he asked, handing a cup to his teammate.

"Eh, you know, same old, still not working." Simmons lifted his helmet off and drained the cup in one gulp.

"Is he dead?"

"How the fuck would I know? And even if he was, would it make a difference with this guy?"

"Meh, prob'ly not," Grif admitted.

Simmons sighed as he lifted Epsilon and gave him a shake. "Now we've got sand in all his ports. How am I supposed to fix him in an environment like this?"

"Sounds like _you_ have sand in all _your_ ports," Grif jeered.

"Why did we even come here?" Simmons moaned. "It's a fucking desert."

"I don't know," Grif muttered. "This is where we were before we came to get you. And where else can we go anyway? There are bad guys at our base and Sarge never wants to get far away from the Blues." He glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know if you've noticed this, Simmons, but he's a little obsessed. He still wants to get 'em back in the database so we can kill 'em. How's that goin' by the way, any progress?"

Simmons looked confused. "Progress?"

"It's your project."

"_I was held captive!_"

"Whatever, dude. If Sarge takes that as an excuse for not getting work done, let me know. I'll get captured all the time."

Just then, they heard Sarge's voice coming from round the corner. "Nope, they're right around this corner up here, _Grif and Simmons_, right up here, where I'm walking."

"Uh oh, here he comes," Grif sniggered, snatching Epsilon from his teammate. "You're about to get busted."

"And you'll see when we get around this corner up here we don't have any kind of floating device; no balls or spheres or anything."

Simmons frowned. "Who's he talking to?"

"You'll see, big group of aliens," Sarge said as if he'd heard Simmons. "We don't have anything like that at all."

"What?" Grif gasped. "Uh oh…"

Just then Epsilon groaned and his eye began to flicker. "What? Where am I?"

"Sshhh, dude, shut up," Grif hissed. "Be quiet."

Epsilon glanced around. "No, what-"

"Shut your hole."

"What's happening? How did I get here?"

"Oh shit!" Grif looked around in panic then he held Epsilon out at arms' length and tilted one leg back.

Epsilon glared at him. "Don't you do it, you fuck-" But then Grif let go of the monitor and swung his leg out, punting him like a football high into the air and over the Elephant freighter. "-ERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"What are you doing?" Simmons cried.

"Shut up, man, and be cool," Grif hissed as he turned round.

"_Be cool?_" Simmons asked.

But then Sarge came around the corner followed by seven big angry aliens.

"Whoa!" Simmons gasped then he cleared his throat and leant on Grif's shoulder. "I mean, what's the four-one-one, daddy-o's? Me and my homey were just hangin' all up in here. Deserts-ville, 's'all good, you know what I'm sayin', scrillas?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Grif hissed out the corner of his mouth.

"You told me to be cool," Simmons replied.

"Right, so what the fuck are you doing?"

"As you can see, we don't have your stupid rolley baloney," Sarge told the aliens in reassurance. "It's just this yellow guy and M.C. Fonzerella over here."

"Whatevs, y'all," Simmons drawled, giving a two-fingered salute. "You don't know me."

Just then Tucker and Caboose came running round the corner.

"Aha, gotcha!" Tucker cried out triumphantly. "See, I knew they would have it."

"Uh, I don't see him." Caboose then gasped. "Oh my God, he's invisible."

Tucker glanced around but could find no sign of Epsilon. "Alright Reds, what did you do with-" He looked up in time to see the Reds fleeing towards the freighter.

"Book it, quadruple-time!" Sarge yelled.

"…it," Tucker sighed. "Dammit! I should have seen that coming. Well, Caboose, I guess we're on our-" He turned to see Caboose making a break for it too. "…own. Dammit."

"Run away!" Caboose yelled.

Tucker then looked round and saw the aliens growling angrily at him. "Alright, I'll just go get on top of the pillar."

Meanwhile, Grif ran up to the top of the dune behind the freighter and spotted Epsilon in the middle of a field surrounded by blinking yellow lights. "Uh oh…"

"Grif, what are you stopping for- Ah, nuts." Sarge screeched to a halt just by the edge of the lights.

"What?" Simmons said. "There he is."

Caboose came up from behind and stopped too. "Oh no, he landed in the middle of the-" He stopped as he noticed Simmons. "Uh, of the there, the over there."

"So, let's get him," Simmons said.

Grif then gave an evil smile. "Yeah, tell you what, Simmons, why don't you go get him?"

"We'll secure the area here while you retrieve," Sarge agreed.

"Okay," Simmons sighed. "I don't have time for this." With that, he stepped into the field… and immediately onto a hidden mine!

"OW!" he yelped as he was blown back out again. He then sat up and glared at Caboose and the other Reds. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Yeah, kinda," Caboose replied before he, Grif and Sarge burst out laughing.

* * *

**Oh Simmons, sometimes you can be so gullible.**


	6. Towing Package

**We now head back to Doc's interrogation.**

* * *

Chapter 6: Towing Package

At Valhalla, Washington and the Meta made their way back to the Blue Base and went over to where Doc was still trapped in the wall.

"Alright Doc," Wash growled. "I wanna ask you a few questions."

"Where'd the Red guys go?" Doc asked. "Did they get away?"

"Quiet," Wash snapped. "I'm asking _you_ the questions, you're not asking me."

"What kind of questions?"

"Hey, I just said no questions."

"Can I ask questions later?"

"Doc!"

"What? Oh, that's a question, sorry. Go ahead."

Wash sighed and placed his hand over his visor. "You know what, get him out of there. I can't talk to him like this."

With a nod, the Meta stepped forward, grabbed Doc's chest and began to pull.

"What're you- OW! Stop that," Doc cried.

After a few tries, the Meta let out a strained growl.

"What?" Wash cried. "Well, try pulling harder then."

The Meta tried that and Doc yelled out, "Be gentle, _be gentle!_"

"Grab lower, near the centre of gravity."

The Meta grabbed Doc's stomach and tugged, making the medic yelp in fright. "He's got cold hands."

"Try the codpiece."

At this, the Meta pulled his hands away and glared at Wash.

"Come on, we're all adults here," Wash urged.

The Meta growled and pointed at Wash who shook his head. "No, I don't wanna try."

"Don't repress your feelings," Doc muttered.

"I can't interrogate him like this, it's ridiculous," Wash sighed. "I can't believe I have to deal with this." He looked over at the Meta. "What're we gonna do?"

The Meta glanced out into the valley for a while then he leapt onto the grav-lift and was launched into the valley. Then he ran over to the wreck of the Warthog. He knelt down, grabbed one of the tow hooks, pulled it out to get a good length of cable and then flung it towards the Blue Base.

Wash stepped aside as the hook landed next to him and smiled. "Hmmm, that might work."

Meanwhile at Sandtrap, Simmons went aboard the freighter, printed out the guide through the minefield and used it to guide himself, Grif, Sarge and Caboose safely to Epsilon.

As they reached the monitor, Sarge let out a chuckle. "Well, it seems like all the kicking and blowing up put some life back into the little guy. That's adorable."

Grif frowned. "Why are all his blue parts green?"

"I don't know," Caboose muttered, lifting Epsilon out of the sand.

As he looked him over, Epsilon glacned at him with his glowing green eye and spoke in a gentle electronic voice. "Caboose, is that you?"

Caboose almost dropped the monitor in surprise. "Delta?"

"Caboose, I need you to listen," Delta's voice replied. "My time is brief. Epsilon is not in control right now. But he will be again, shortly."

"Great!" Caboose beamed.

"Perhaps not. The encounter with Agent Washington has jarred loose many of his memories. Epsilon has not _historically_ coped with these memories well."

"What does that mean?" Grif asked puzzled.

"We fear he may pursue certain memories in particular."

"Who is 'we'?"

"Myself and the other memories of the Alpha fragments."

Grif raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck is that? Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck is happening?"

Delta ignored him and looked back at Caboose. "Epsilon may not yet be aware of our presence, but eventually he will be. We cannot hide forever. It is likely at this point he will begin the cycle again. That must not happen."

"What cycle?" Caboose then gasped. "A motorcycle? A secret motorcycle! It's okay you can tell me."

Delta rolled his eye. "He's begun to search his memories now; he is clearly looking for something."

"Well, you always did say memory is the key," Caboose recalled.

"Memory _is_ the key, Caboose," Delta confirmed. "But not everything that is locked is meant to be unlocked." His eye then began to flicker. "He is coming back now. I must leave before he discovers me."

Caboose frowned in disappointment. "But if he meets you in there, then you can be friends, but not best friends 'cause that job's taken, but you know, maybe acquaintances?"

Delta let out a rueful sigh. "If only I were the memory that he's looking for…"

Then the green light faded and was replaced by a sapphire blue light as Epsilon returned. "What? Oh, hey, I must've uh, passed out. Sorry about that."

"Church, you're back!" Caboose cried.

"Yeah, I am," Epsilon muttered, floating out of his friend's arms. "Hey Caboose, come over here, would ya? I need to talk to you about something."

"Okay, where are we going?" Caboose asked, following Epsilon out of the minefield.

Simmons watched them go then he turned to his teammates. "Hey guys, do you ever notice Blue team has, like a lot more stuff going on than us?"

"Yeah, boring stuff," Sarge replied.

"Nerdy stuff," Grif added.

"Yeah," Simmons agreed. "But I mean all we ever talk about is food and guns."

"That reminds me, I'm hungry," Grif muttered, patting his stomach.

"Stop complaining or I'll shoot ya in the head," Sarge growled, lifting his shotgun.

Simmons sighed and bowed his head. "Good times…"

Nearby Epsilon led Caboose through the ruins, past the pillar where Tucker was still being harassed by the angry aliens – "Stay away, don't touch me!" – and up to the campsite.

Once alone, Epsilon turned to his blue buddy. "Hey uh Caboose, you were the one who moved me from the Epsilon unit to this new body, right?"

"Oh yeah," Caboose replied. "I am really good at ergonomics."

Epsilon frowned. "Uh, do you mean electronics?"

"Yeah, probably," Caboose replied with a shrug.

"Okay good." Epsilon nodded. "Then I need you to come with me. I just remembered something, something that could help me."

"Sure!"

"You don't wanna know the details?"

"Nope."

"It could be dangerous."

"Yeah, I have armor. It's blue."

"Alright, well, let's go then," Epsilon said. "I actually thought it would take longer to convince you. Come on. I wanna get to the facility before nightfall."

Caboose nodded and boarded a nearby Mongoose. As he revved the engine, he then spotted the storage capsule that once housed Epsilon. "Uh, you wanna bring the Epsilon unit?"

"Is it necessary to… do your thing?" Epsilon asked.

"I don't think so," Caboose murmured.

"Then who cares, leave it," Epsilon said, setting off into the desert. "Where we're going, we won't need it."

Caboose glanced at the unit once last time then he drove off after Epsilon.

Back at Valhalla, Washington had carefully hooked the tow hook up to Doc's crotch, which made the medic feel quite uncomfortable. "Um, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Wash ignored him as he looked over to the Meta. "Alright, give it a crank!"

The Meta pressed a button on the Warthog's mangled dashboard and the winch began to whine as it reeled the cable in.

Wash watched as the cable tightened and pulled hard on Doc. "More power, come on, give it some gas."

With a nod, the Meta pressed his foot on the pedal and the winch began to squeal in protest.

Doc was also squealing but mostly in pain. Wash then heard a loud cracking and he looked round to see the medic begin to shift in the wall. "Almost there, just a little more…"

But then the section of wall that Doc was trapped in broke free from the building and toppled forward, sandwiching the medic between it and the floor. "Ow!"

Wash groaned and slapped his hand on his visor. "Well, that's just great."

* * *

**I've heard of getting stonewalled, but that was ridiculous.**


	7. And Don't Call Me Shirley

**Another old friend is about to return… sort of.**

* * *

Chapter 7: And Don't Call Me Shirley

With the towing plan completely stuffed, the Meta carefully lifted Doc upright while Washington pondered over a new alternative. "Come on," he yelled at the Meta. "Can't you get him out of there? He's just stuck in a few rocks."

The Meta let out a few angry growls.

"Why can't anything ever be easy?" Wash sighed before turning to the trapped medic. "Doc, I want you to tell me everything you know about the Reds and Blues."

"You know more than me," Doc replied with a stiff shrug. "I just got here."

Wash turned to the Meta. "Hit him."

The Meta stepped forward and socked Doc right in the jaw. "Ah!"

"You worked with them before," Wash growled. "Do they have any hideouts, anywhere to go when they're in trouble?"

"I don't know," Doc moaned.

"Hit him again."

The Meta punched Doc again, this time in his stomach. "Ow!"

"Did Simmons say where Sarge and Grif went?" Wash demanded. "You can either answer me, or I can have the Meta beat it out of you, or _I_ can beat it out of you. I think I've earned this."

"Man," Doc coughed, shaking his head. "You guys are really awful at the Good Cop/Bad Cop thing. You're like Bad Cop/Even Worse Cop."

Wash sighed. "Tell you what, Meta, let's just shoot him in the chest then see if we can pull the audio logs out of his helmet."

The Meta raised his brute shot and Doc let out a squeal of terror. "Ah, he said something about a distress call!"

"Hit him again," Wash ordered.

The Meta raised his fist towards Doc's crotch. "And sand!" the medic yelped. "H-he mentioned sand!"

Wash put a hand on the Meta's chest to stop him. "Sand, huh?"

At that moment, at Sandtrap, the Reds watched from the top of a dune as Epsilon led Caboose away from the ruins. "Come on," they heard the monitor say. "I wanna get to the facility before nightfall."

"Facility, eh?" Sarge murmured. "I knew the Blues were up to something. Come on, men, let's get after those Blues! It sounds like this is the big opportunity we've been waiting for."

"You mean our opportunity to find a place to hole up until this all blows over?" Grif asked hopefully.

"Some place that isn't a desert?" Simmons added.

"No!" Sarge yelled. "A chance to finally restore the Blues to Command's database. Get yer typing fingers ready, Simmons!"

"Okay," Simmons sighed. "I'll bring my carpal tunnel braces."

Sarge looked down and watched Caboose follow Epsilon on a Mongoose. "If we're going to follow them, we'll need a vehicle."

"Well, I'm sure we can grab another one from the camp down there," Grif assumed.

"Why do we need a vehicle?" Simmons asked puzzled. "I'm sure we can keep up with the Blues on foot."

"On _foot?!_" Grif cried out.

"Uh Simmons, we're the Reds," Sarge said slowly. "We don't _walk_ anywhere. We travel as the good Lord intended: in the largest possible vehicle with the maximum horsepower allowed by local law enforcement. And if there are no cars available, we find the biggest nastiest meanest land animal we possibly can, beat the crap out of it and saddle that puppy up."

"On foot," Grif retorted, shaking his head. "Shame on you, Simmons. _Shame on you._"

"Sorry," Simmons muttered.

"Let's just forget you ever mentioned it," Sarge said, leading his team down the dune towards the camp.

"I think this should go on his permanent record," Grif suggested.

"Oh, just go get the fucking jeep, jackass," Simmons snapped.

On the top of the spire, Tucker watched as the Reds climbed onto a Warthog and drove off into the desert. "Hey, where are you guys going? Wait!" But the Reds didn't hear him. "God dammit!"

He then glanced down at the aliens trying to grab him. "Hey guys, listen. I know you want your super-cool piece of technology back. Well, those guys just took off, probably to look for it. If you let me go, I can track it down for you and bring it back."

The aliens glanced at each other for a moment then raised their guns and shot at him, making him jump back. "No? Okay then, forget it." Then he looked round and pointed out with a gasp. "Oh my God, look, a next gen Smartphone! Can you believe they'd leave that just laying around?"

The aliens spun round to see and Tucker took this opportunity to leap off the spire and run towards his parked Chopper. "Fooled by the old prototype trick, classic," he muttered as he revved his engine.

As he drove, the aliens turned back and let out angry growls. "Well, see ya, bitches, I'm outta here!" Tucker jeered… just before the bike let out a splutter and came to a stop. "What the- out of gas? Hey uh, you guys have any gas?"

The aliens raised their guns at him again.

Tucker gulped as he jumped off his Chopper. "You know what? Fuck it, I'm just gonna run." So he did.

Meanwhile, Epsilon led Caboose across the desert then through a deep jungle until they reached a great ruined complex half-hidden by vines and creepers. "Alright, I think this is it."

"This?" Caboose asked, dismounting the Mongoose. "This doesn't look like anything."

"Yeah, it's not supposed to," Epsilon replied. "That's kinda the idea. Come on, this way." He floated towards an overgrown archway.

"Man, you really need to clean this place up," Caboose muttered.

"Caboose!"

"Coming!" the Blue yelped, following Epsilon.

They wandered around the complex for a few minutes then Epsilon turned toward a passageway. "Oh yeah, here we go. It's this way."

"My this way or your this way?' Caboose asked.

"There is no- it's the same this way," Epsilon retorted.

They followed the passageway down until they entered a large clearing surrounded by huge walls and a single tree planted in the middle. "Okay, yeah," Epsilon muttered, glancing to his left. "This is it, I think."

Caboose looked too and frowned. "It's a wall. We came all this way for a wall?"

"Caboose!"

"Sorry," Caboose muttered. "It's a really great wall."

"Hello," a voice called out.

Caboose and Epsilon turned round to see a screen built into the tree. The letters F.I.L.S.S shone on the top of the screen and by some smaller screens showing complex writing, a bluish orb flashed at them.

"This is a private facility," the voice continued. "Visitors are not welcome. Please leave immediately, or we will be forced to take lethal measures to ensure the safety of our property."

"That's great," Caboose muttered.

"You have thirty seconds to comply, or die," the voice finished. "Have a nice day." On one of the smaller screens, a timer started counting down the seconds. _28… 27… 26…_

"Sheila, is that you?" Caboose breathed.

"No," the voice replied. "I am the Freelancer Integrated Logistics and Security System. You may call me FILSS. It is a pleasure to meet you. You now have fifteen seconds to live."

"Whoa," Epsilon gulped. "Dying sounds like a bad idea. Maybe we should leave."

"Oh my, the Director," FILSS gasped and the timer faded. "I am so sorry. I did not recognize you, Sir. It has been such a long time since you have visited. You look very different."

Epsilon glanced at Caboose then looked back. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes," FILSS replied. "You are the Director of Project Freelancer, are you?"

"Oh uh, yeah," Epsilon stammered. "Of course that's… totally me. I just haven't been around because I've been doing, you know… director stuff, can't really get into it, secret project."

"How may I assist you today?"

"Can we, uh… Can we come in?"

"Certainly." Then there was a loud scraping noise and Caboose and Epsilon turned to see a door sliding open in the wall, revealing a long dark chamber. "Please watch your step."

"Kinda spooky in there," Caboose muttered.

"Yeah," Epsilon agreed. "Why don't you go first?"

"Me?"

"Well, I mean, you're the one with the gun and everything."

"Yeah, but the tree seemed to like you best." Caboose turned back to the screen. "Uh hey Sheila, could you-"

"Are you speaking to me?" FILSS asked puzzled.

"We're just kinda used to calling you by that name," Epsilon explained quickly. "Um, maybe you should just answer him when he calls you that. It's probably easier for you to change than it is for him. He's kinda dumb."

"Alright," FILSS replied. "I will respond to that name as well. You are the Director after all."

Epsilon nodded simply. "Right. I am."

* * *

**He's not really the Director, but he was part of the Alpha AI who was based on the Director, so just go with it.**


	8. Perusing the Archive

**Now the mystery is about to take a turn.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Perusing the Archive

Keeping their eyes open for trouble, Epsilon and Caboose made their way down the chamber and into a main entry hall.

"Please watch your step," FILSS informed them. "Director, since you have a new visitor with you today, would you like me to run the tutorial program?"

"Yes, always run that," Caboose replied. "No seriously you need to run that. No it's, really you need to; you need to turn that-"

"Yeah, okay, shut up dude," Epsilon interrupted. "Yes, please run the tutorial program."

"Oh thank God," Caboose sighed.

As they set off down the corridors, FILSS let out some chimes and then began the tour. "Hello, and welcome to the Freelancer Off-site Storage Facility. Project Freelancer is a state of the art scientific endeavor with one goal in mind: to ensure the security of humanity in a harsh and violent Galaxy. This bunker has been constructed to guarantee the continued operation of our program, in the event of a primary facility loss."

Caboose and Epsilon then entered a huge room filled with crates containing guns, armor and med kits as well as several unconnected teleporters. "This storage area archives the components of our Freelancer simulation bases," FILSS explained. "These outposts test our agents in realistic training scenarios."

"Yeah, we're on the Blue Team," Caboose replied.

"I am sorry," FILSS said. "I do not recognize that term. Our simulation outposts are categorized into Red, and [entry missing]. Hmm, it seems as though I have a corrupted database. I will correct that when I have more time."

Caboose rummaged inside a crate and pulled out two Mark IV helmets, one blue and one teal. "Look, here's our old stuff! And there's a teleporter!" He pointed to a glowing entryway on top of a pile of crates. "Man, Tucker hates those."

"Don't interrupt," Epsilon cut in. "Come on, this way."

Caboose put the helmets back in the crate and followed Epsilon out as FILSS continued her tour. "When the equipment is not being used, it is stored here until it can be repurposed for- Oh, I guess we are moving on."

They set off down further corridors until they reached a large thick-steel door at the end of a long hallway. "Well what's this?" Caboose asked curiously.

"I am sorry, this area is restricted," FILSS replied. "Only the Director himself may access this entry. I am sure you understand. The nature of our experiments is such that-"

"Open it," Epsilon interrupted.

"Excuse me, Director?" FILSS cried out.

"I want you to open it."

"Are you certain, Director? You never bring visitors into this-"

"I said, open it," Epsilon snarled with finality.

"Alright," FILSS sighed. "Unlocking…" The lock spun around a few times then the door swung open with a loud eerie creak. "Would you like me to archive your… personal project?"

"No," Epsilon replied. "Let's see everything."

"If you say so, Director," FILSS said loyally.

Epsilon turned and nodded to Caboose and the two set off into the passageway beyond.

Meanwhile outside the main entrance, Simmons made his way back to where Sarge and Grif were waiting, having spied on Epsilon and Caboose's break-in.

"Simmons, what's the status report?" Sarge asked.

"Gumball McJones and Caboose just went into that door," Simmons replied, pointing at the wall.

"What door?" Grif asked. "All I see is a wall."

"It's a _secret_ door," Simmons replied.

"_Simmons,_ what did I tell you about using Dungeons & Dragons references in combat situations?" Sarge warned.

"Sorry, Sir," Simmons sighed. "It's a concealed door."

"That's better."

"How did they get in?" Grif asked.

"They talked to that computer," Simmons explained, pointing at the screen in the tree. "They got it to open the door by posing as members of Project Freelancer. If _we_ pose as agents, it'll probably let us in too."

"Aren't agents like tough and good at things?"

"We all just pick a State name and call ourselves by that, you know, like Agent Washington. Grif, name a State."

"What is this, a pop quiz?" Grif racked his brains. "Uh, let's see… uh, Manhattan. No? Uh, Europe."

Simmons rolled his eyes. "Wow, really?"

"Pacific Ocean?"

"Stop guessing," Simmons snapped. "Just be Agent Alaska. How 'bout you, Sarge?"

"I'll be Secret Agent Double Ohio," Sarge replied, "license to be tall in the middle and round on both ends."

"And I'll be Agent Denial." Simmons burst out laughing. "See, it's because a state of denial, like the saying? You know, it's like a, I was, you know, the whole State/state thing?" He noticed his teammate staring at him. "You know, it's a joke."

"No dude," Grif muttered, shaking his head. "Jokes are funny."

Simmons let out a sigh. "Let's just go."

Meanwhile, Washington had received a signal on his recovery beacon and he, Doc and the Meta followed it across the desert to Sandtrap. Since Doc was still stuck in the wall, the Meta had to drag it with him all the way and Wash carried the medic's helmet.

Now Wash stopped as he reached the ruins. "The recovery beacon leads here," he murmured. "It's weak, but I can still pick it up." He went past the minefield, past the Elephant freighter, and then stopped in the middle of a sandy plain. "Here! Meta, dig."

The Meta let out an angry hiss.

"Hey, I'm not gonna argue with you about this," Wash snapped. "You want a chance at that AI? I track, you dig. Otherwise you can wander the desert by yourself, and see if you find him on your own."

The Meta growled and folded his arms.

"Because I found the signal," Wash replied. "You dig. We all have to pull our own weight."

The Meta glanced at the embedded Doc then back at Wash.

"Right and other people's weight too. Just dig."

With a hiss, the Meta stepped up to the area that Wash pointed out, knelt down and began to shovel through the sand like a dog.

"Man, some people just can't take orders," Doc chuckled, placing his hands on the sides of his chest. "Am I right?"

"Shut up," Wash retorted. "We're not friends."

"Can I at least get a drink of water?"

"Shut up! I already asked you if you were thirsty before we left."

"Yeah, we're in the desert! Thirsty should be assumed."

"You can drink later."

Then Doc felt his wall shift slightly and he looked down to see the sand piling up round his feet. "Yeah, this might be a bad time to tell you that I'm sinking then."

Wash looked down at this and then let out a sigh. "I hate you."

"I know," Doc muttered.

Just then, the Meta stood up and waved a hand over to Wash who ran over.

"What are you guys doing over there?" Doc called out.

Wash ran over to the hole the Meta had made and gasped. "What the…?"

There in the hole, lying on its back was a brown-and-white Spartan-II with a helmet that looked more like a gas mask than the helmet Wash and Doc wore, its darkened eyes staring at the sky. "Is that C.T.? That's impossible, what's she doing out here?"

"What are you looking at?" Doc shouted.

The Meta growled and made to jump into the hole but Wash held him back. "Don't bother. She didn't get an AI, remember?"

"Down in front!" Doc yelled.

"Scavenge her for equipment, see what you can-" Suddenly there was a series of growls much deeper than the Meta's and the ex-Freelancers turned round to see a group of aliens gathered around Doc, all holding plasma guns and snarling angrily. "…find."

Doc let out an irritated sigh. "Well, this is just fucking great."

Meanwhile, inside the Freelancer Off-site Storage Facility, Epsilon and Caboose came out of the long passageway onto platform that overlooked a huge room. At the back, a person-sized cryo-chamber hung down from the ceiling and hundreds of cobalt-blue figures kept guard in front of it, standing in formation like the Chinese Terracotta Army.

"Oh my God!" Caboose gasped. "Look at all the yous! You're everywhere! Why, this is like a Best Friend Store, and this is the greatest store ever! You can have your body back!" He ran down the platform and ran amongst the figures. "Now which one do you want? I wanna buy one."

"I'm not looking for that." Epsilon floated over the bodies and made his way to the cryo-chamber. "I'm looking… for this."

As he spoke, the chamber slid open and Caboose's jaw dropped as he saw the figure inside. "Oh."

* * *

**What could possibly inside that Epsilon is interested in? Stay tuned.**


	9. Backup Plans

**If I say anything about this chapter, I might spoil it for you.**

* * *

Chapter 9: Backup Plans

At Sandtrap, Washington and the Meta stood side by side and prepared themselves.

"Alright Meta, get ready!" Wash yelled, taking a plasma grenade off his belt. "FIRE!"

As he threw the grenade, the Meta fired an RPG from his brute shot. Then KABOOOOOMMM! A great cloud of dust flew up in front of them and when it cleared, Wash stared in amazement. "Huh... well, that actually seemed to work."

In the middle of a crater surrounded by pieces of wall, Doc stood still in his frozen pose but the wall had been completely destroyed. Then he tilted forward stiff as a board and landed face first into the sand. "_Ow!_"

Wash ran forward and helped the medic get to his feet. "Doc, how do you feel?"

"Uh, okay I guess, all things considered," Doc groaned, stretching his legs and rubbing the crick in his neck. "Hey, does anybody know where we can find a good medic?"

Wash sighed. "I don't get paid enough for this."

As he and the Meta went over to the waiting aliens, Doc gave a puzzled frown. "Geez, tough room..."

Meanwhile at the Freelancer Offsite Storage Facility, the Reds had made it inside and were now wandering around the halls.

"I told you that stupid plan wouldn't work," Grif muttered.

"That's because you said your name was Agent Pluto!" Simmons yelled.

"Luckily we had the old contingency plan to fall back on," Sarge chuckled.

"Sarge, shotgun in the face is not a contingency plan," Grif sighed. "I keep telling you that."

"Don't be so quick to judge, Grif. Shotgun to the face can be applied in a variety of tough situations." Sarge then raised his shotgun and pointed it at Grif's head. "For instance, watch how quickly it cures insubordination."

Suddenly Caboose's voice rang out from down the hall. "Oh no!" Then there was a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass.

"What was that?" Simmons cried.

"It came from down here," Sarge yelled, running down the passage. "Come on."

Back in the desert, Wash and the Meta waited tensely as Doc had a quick talk with the aliens then a purple alien began to draw in the sand with the tip of his gun.

"I don't like this," Wash muttered.

"Look, I talked to them," Doc assured. "They're gonna draw us a map and show us where Epsilon went. After that, you can let me go."

Wash raised an eyebrow. "You sure that's what he's doing?"

"Well, my Alien to English _is_ a little rusty," Doc admitted. "I would suggest we get one of those translator balls, but we got enough jerks around here already."

The Meta growled and lifted his brute shot.

"I agree," Wash replied. "We should just kill most of them then the last one left alive will talk."

"Wash, you just can't kill everybody you meet," Doc scolded.

"Why not?" Wash sneered.

"Uh…" Doc just sighed. "Well, now you're putting me on the spot. I don't really have an answer for that. It… just seems like a bad idea though. Karma?"

Just then, the alien stood up and called out, "Rahr, blarggh."

"Hey, he's done drawing the map," Doc cried.

Wash ran up and took a look at what the alien had drawn. Unfortunately, the alien hadn't drawn a map, but the words 'Humens suk' and a stick figure with the word 'Shisno' pointing at it. Behind him, the aliens started sniggering.

"What does it say?" Doc asked curiously. "What does it say?"

"It says peace talks have broken down," Wash growled, taking out his battle rifle. "Now we do it our way."

Back at the Facility, Caboose stood outside the closed door of the restricted room listening at Epsilon's shouts – "Just hold still. No, don't go-" and the sounds of things breaking.

"I sense things are not going well," FILSS stated.

"Yes, just please keep the door shut," Caboose muttered. "Thank you, that's fine."

"I am sorry," FILSS apologized. "But if the Director requests the door to be opened, I am required to comply."

"Just keep the door shut," Caboose repeated.

"Caboose, is that you?" a voice called out.

Caboose whirled round and spotted Sarge, Grif and Simmons coming up the passageway towards him. "Oh, hello everyone!"

"Stop!" Epsilon yelled out. "Don't move, don't move, don't-" CRASH! BANG! CLATTER! "Arrgh!"

Caboose smiled sheepishly. "Yes, everyone who wasn't before is now here now. Hello."

"What are you up to, Blue?" Sarge grunted.

"Me? Oh, nothing," Caboose muttered, leaning up against the door. "I'm not hiding anything behind this door."

Then Epsilon called out, "Uh I wouldn't pick that up, it looks expensive-" Then there was a loud BOOM!

"Hmm, I think he's lying," Simmons assumed.

"What was your first clue?" Grif muttered sarcastically.

"Let us see what's in there," Sarge ordered.

"In here? Oh nothing is in here," Caboose lied. "Um, well this probably isn't even a door either. It's probably-"

Suddenly the door shuddered with a loud bang.

"What the heck was that?" Sarge cried.

"Oh that was me," Caboose gulped. "Uh, I said this isn't a door, I said it's a _**gong**_."

"A _gong?_" Grif yelled. "What the hell is a-"

Another bang, louder this time, and the door was dented outwards.

"A _**gong**_," Caboose repeated. He then jumped forward as the lock began to crumble. "I'm just going to walk over this way now." He stepped slowly forward, pushing past the Reds. "Excuse me, yes thank you. Pardon me, coming through…" After he made it past, he walked further down the passage, glanced behind him and then took off in a full-blown sprint.

The Reds now faced the door as it began to buckle and break.

"Um, Sarge, what's the plan here?" Grif whimpered.

"Men, we have a perfect ambush scenario," Sarge replied grimly.

"I agree," Simmons replied. "Unless- Wait, are we the ambushers or the ambushees. Hey, can you ambush something that's trying to beat its way through metal plating to get to you?"

"Okay," Sarge said, raising his shotgun. "First we just wait for the door to open-"

Suddenly the door was kicked right off its hinges and the Reds quickly ducked down as it missed their heads by inches.

"The door's open," Grif muttered.

"What the…?" Sarge lifted his head up… and when he and his privates saw what was behind the door, they gave a collective gasp of horror.

There, standing in the doorway, was a Spartan-II wearing black armor and a great sneer on its face. As it stepped into the passage, it flexed its neck, slammed its fist in its hand and spoke in a familiar female and very angry voice. "Okay, so who's first?"

* * *

**Uh oh, guess who's back with a vengeance!**


	10. This One Goes To Eleven

**Right, I had to psyche myself up for this episode but hopefully it'll be worth it.**

* * *

Chapter 10: This One Goes To Eleven

Following the tracks across the desert and through the jungle, Tucker finally spotted the Red's Warthog parked next to a Mongoose outside an overgrown complex. After pausing to catch his breath and to check that the aliens weren't pursuing him, he made his way through the complex until he entered a clearing where he spotted a rather damaged console built into a tree.

As he approached, a garbled voice spoke to him. "Hhhhhhllo, this is a private facility. Hell-ello, this is a private facility."

"Is that Sheila? How'd she get here?" Tucker murmured. He knelt by the console and assessed the damage. "Hmmm, shotgunned in the face… Yep, the Reds have definitely been here."

He then looked up and spotted the doorway into the complex. But as he stepped closer, an alarm suddenly blared out from down the passage. "Alarm, security breach, level Alpha. All personnel report for duty. This is not a drill."

"Oh my God," Tucker cried out, running into the complex. "What the hell are the Reds doing down there?"

What they were doing was fleeing for their lives.

"RUN!" Simmons screamed as they pelted down the passage. "I don't wanna die!"

Grif glanced over his shoulder as he ran. "Oh crap, where is she?"

At the restricted room, Epsilon watched in horror as Tex took off after the Reds then he glanced back at the guarding bodies and wondered if he should stay here in hiding or if he should grab a body and go help the Reds. "Stay here… Body… Stay here… Body… Ah, screw it," he sighed as he floated towards the bodies.

In a control room overlooking the passage, Caboose gulped in terror as he watched the Reds fleeing from Tex. "Sheila, we have to help them!"

"Help who?" FILSS asked.

"The Reds! Tex is attacking them, we have to stop her."

"Stop Agent Texas?" FILSS cried. "Oh no, absolutely not. We should never interfere with an ongoing battlefield simulation test. Our job is to observe and document."

"But she'll kill them!" Caboose yelled.

"Oh, that would be wonderful! What a successful test."

In the storage area, Simmons and Grif stopped to catch their breath but Sarge was still glancing over his shoulder nervously. "We need to keep moving, men. Come on, double-time. Hell, I'd settle for single-time."

"Maybe we should just fight," Simmons panted, leaning against a closed door. "I'm afraid she's gonna start picking us off one by-" Suddenly Tex punched right through the door and grabbed him by his throat. "-_one!_"

Tex then pulled him forward, slamming his face into the door then she stepped back and kicked it away, sandwiching Simmons between it and a pile of crates.

Quickly Sarge raised his shotgun and pointed it at Tex, but she darted forward, lifted the gun up just before he fired then punched him in the stomach and flung him towards Grif. Sarge stumbled forward as he was thrown and his helmet rammed right into Grif's crotch, causing him to scream in pain. But then Tex barreled straight into them, crashing through a crate before flinging them into a pile of barrels, sending them scattering like skittles.

Simmons pulled himself out from behind the door and gulped in terror at the sight of Tex beating the crap out of his teammates. "Oh man, forget this. I need to get a bigger weapon."

He dashed out the storage room and ran over to the control room. "Caboose, help us!"

"How?" Caboose yelled. "The computer won't let me. She's mean! This place is filled with mean ladies."

"Push some buttons, I don't know!" Simmons shouted.

"Buttons?" Caboose looked down at the console and beamed. "Oh man, I love buttons!" He then started pressing each button, making happy beeping noises.

As he pressed a green button, a weapons crate above Simmons tilted forward and dropped a load of rocket launchers next to him. "Wow, that actually worked perfectly!" he cried, grabbing one and running back to the storage area. "Thanks!"

"Great!" Caboose replied, looking at the pile. "How the heck did I do that?"

As Simmons reached the storeroom, he ran into Tucker coming the other way. "Hey Simmons, what the hell is going on in there?"

"You gotta help us!" Simmons then glanced at Tucker's sword on his belt. "Do you know how to use that thing?"

"My sword?" Tucker asked, taking it off his belt. "Fuck yeah I know how to use it. What's to understand about swish-swish-stab? It's a fucking sword, dude, it's not a fighter jet."

"Just come and help me," Simmons cut in, grabbing Tucker's arm and pulling him into the room.

In the storeroom, as Sarge and Grif staggered to their feet, Tex kicked a barrel towards them. Grif quickly ducked down and let the barrel hit Sarge before getting up and firing his assault rifle. But Tex rolled forward to avoid the bullets then she grabbed Grif and Sarge by the throat and smashed their heads together. Then she knocked Sarge away with some punches and kicks.

Grif opened fire again but Tex knocked his rifle away and began pounding on him with some powerful punches before knocking him to the floor, holding onto his leg with one hand before raising her other in a fist. "Wait, wait, wait-" Grif's pleas were cut off as his testicles were crunched. Then she kicked him across the room, right into a crate. As he struggled to get up, a teleporter fell onto him and he flew out the other end just as Tex knocked Sarge aside.

As Tex stared at the teleporter, she suddenly heard a hissing sound and she ducked to avoid the plasma grenade thrown at her. She looked round to see Tucker standing in the doorway, sword at the ready.

"Hey sweet cheeks, remember me?" Tucker called out. "Step away from the idiot!"

Tex stepped closer to him and the two Spartans began to circle each other, silently daring the other to make the first move. Behind them, on top of a pile of crates, Simmons carefully aimed the rocket launcher at Tex. "Oh God, please don't let her see me."

But then a clamp above them released the crate it was carrying and dropped it right between Tex and Tucker. Tucker whirled round and saw Caboose cheering in the control room. "Yes! I saved Tucker! Oh wait…" He then cheered a little quieter, "I saved Tucker."

"Caboose, what are you doing?" Tucker yelled. "You're messing up my plan with Simmons. I was supposed to distract her for him."

On the other side of the crate, Tex spun round and spotted Simmons on the pile as he loaded the launcher. "You ratted me out, you son of a bitch!"

Simmons fired a rocket out, but Tex jumped aside, grabbed a teleporter and flung it out at him. He fired another rocket but it simply went through the teleporter and out the exit that was right next to the pile he was standing on! KABOOOOOM! Simmons was thrown into the air by the explosion, right into the flying teleporter and out of the other end – straight into Tex who grabbed him and kicked him into Tucker, sending them sprawling to the ground.

In the control room, Caboose watched the action with slight fear. "Um, can we use turrets on her, or some explodey fiery thing?"

"That would be outside the bounds of my standard safety protocols," FILLS replied. "I cannot do that."

In the storage room, Tucker and the Reds slowly staggered to their feet. "What do we do, Sarge?" Grif moaned, rubbing his battered crotch.

"I don't know," Sarge grunted. "I've never hit a girl in my life."

"Yeah, I noticed," Simmons scowled. "Try harder!"

Just then they spotted Tex stepping closer to them. Sarge pointed his shotgun out, Simmons raised his rocket launcher, Tucker gripped his sword tightly and Grif just grabbed a nearby construction cone and held it up like a club.

Not wasting a single moment, Tex charged forward, snatched Sarge's shotgun out of his grip, punched Tucker aside and kicked Simmons into another teleporter. As she turned towards Grif, Simmons flew out the exit into another teleporter and out that exit right into Grif, knocking him straight into another kick in the balls. "OW!" Then she slammed him onto the floor with her foot and pointed the shotgun right at his head.

"Oh no, Grif!" Simmons yelled.

"Yipe!" Grif closed his eyes as Tex squeezed the trigger… but the gun simply clicked.

"Private Grif, you should be ashamed of yourself," Sarge bellowed. "We've run out of ammo again! That's _your_ responsibility!"

Grif looked up and chuckled. "Ha-ha, I guess this is the first time my laziness has ever saved my- OOF!" he gasped as Tex trod on his chest. "-life!"

She then grabbed the shotgun's nozzle and raised it like a golf-club. Grif yelped and lifted the cone above his head. "Protect me, cone!"

Tex then swung the shotgun down, hitting Grif in the crotch and sending him flying twenty feet into Simmons, knocking a teleporter exit down. "Watch it!"

"You watch it," Grif groaned.

"You idiots, let me show you how it's done!" Sarge then charged right at Tex, only to get punched right into his recovering privates.

"Nice demonstration, Sarge," Grif moaned from under Sarge's butt.

"Ah shut up," Sarge snapped.

Simmons then looked up and gasped. "Hey guys, look up there."

"What?" As Tucker struggled to his feet, he looked up and spotted a crate right above him and Tex. "Hey Caboose, remember when I said not to help me? Forget that. I need you to help me, right now!"

In the control room, Caboose glanced over the console. "What holds up that crate?"

"Mechanical controls are on the left side of the console," FILSS replied helpfully.

Caboose slammed his hand down on the buttons and the winch released its grip on the crate. Quickly Tucker dived out of the way… seconds before the crate crashed down right on top of Tex!

"I can't believe that worked!" Tucker cheered. But then the crate was lifted right off the ground by Tex who turned and glared at the Blue. "Aw fuck, that didn't work!"

"I knew that would not work," FILLS informed Caboose. "Agent Tex is a bit of a badass."

And to prove FILSS right, Tex hoisted the crate up and flung it straight towards Tucker and the Reds.

Grif began pounding on the door behind them. "We gotta get outta here!"

"We'll be crushed!" Simmons yelped.

"Don't worry guys, I got this!" Tucker whipped out his sword, leapt to his feet and swung it right into the crate, slicing it in half as easily as if it was a loaf of bread. "_SWISH!_"

The two halves of the crates smashed on either side of the Reds and hundreds of med kits and propane tanks flew out, burying them.

"Ow!" Grif groaned. "We were crushed."

"Aw, fuckberries," Tucker sighed. "Tex, can you- OOF!" he gasped as she kicked him in the chest. "Alright, you know what, that's it. Come here!"

As Tucker charged towards Tex, Simmons staggered out from behind one crate half. "Oh thank God, I thought I was a goner. Sarge, where are you?"

With a groan, Sarge poked his head out from a pile of med kits. "What happened? I feel defeated, yet inexplicably rejuvenated."

Meanwhile, Tucker swung his sword out towards Tex, making swishing noises as he did but Tex kept dodging each swing and punching Tucker's exposed parts. "Swish-fuck! Swoosh-fah! Ah, stab!" As he thrust his sword out, Tex grabbed his arm, twisted it so that he dropped his sword and then kicked him across the room. "Ow-how, bullshit!" He then skidded across the ground, hit his head on the teleporter, flipped over and then tumbled straight through it.

"Whoa, did you see that?" Grif gasped.

"How would I have missed that?" Simmons replied.

Tucker then stumbled out of the exit, his armor partially covered in black ash, straight into Tex's grip. She then grabbed the dropped sword and raised it up, intending to bisect Tucker, but then it switched off.

"What's the matter, Tex, you having trouble keeping it up?" Tucker chuckled through his chokes. "Don't worry, it happens to everybody. Well, not _me_ but- OW!" Tex shut him up by hitting him with the sword's handle.

As they watched Tex pounding Tucker, Sarge then noticed Simmons' weapon. "That rocket launcher is one of the older models, right?"

"Yeah," Simmons replied.

"That means it's got heat seeking."

"Oh right, I forgot about that!" Simmons realized.

"Ow!" Tucker winced as Tex smashed him into the floor. "You just don't know how to use it, bi-IIIIIIIITTTTCCCCHH!" Tex flung him across the room, right into the teleporter and he was thrown out the other side, his armor now completely black with ash. He staggered to his feet, coughing and stared at his armor. "Dammit, I hate this black stuff. What the hell is it?"

"There she is!" Grif yelled, pointing at him.

Tucker looked round in confusion. "Huh?"

"Get her!" Sarge bellowed.

"Wait, guys," Simmons called as his teammates charged forward.

But Sarge and Grif didn't hear him; they were too busy kicking the living daylights out of Tucker. "Ow, come on!" the blackened Spartan yelped, covering his head with his hands. "I'm not Tex, I'm a Blue. I'm not the one you're fighting. Leave me the fuck alone!"

After a while, Grif stepped away with a sigh. "Whew, kicking's hard."

Sarge then grabbed Tucker in a headlock and started punching him really hard in the head. "Why are you hitting me? I'm not Tex!"

"Sarge, hold on, hold on!" Simmons cried out. "I think that's Tucker, not Tex!"

Sarge looked up and spotted the real Tex standing some distance away, watching the Red's slapstick attacks with obvious amusement. "Oh."

"See? I told you s-OW!" Tucker yelped as Sarge punched him again. "You fucker! Why did you do that?"

"Meh, force o' habit," Sarge replied.

Tucker groaned and pushed himself out of Sarge's grip. "Man, you guys are so-WHAA!" He suddenly stumbled on a med kit and staggered backwards into Grif.

"Hey, watch it- whoa!" Grif suddenly noticed that they were now leaning against each other, right over the teleporter exit. "Don't fall in there!"

"Wha-ha-ha-ha!" Tucker whimpered.

Grif then looked round and spotted Tex standing by another teleporter. "Hold still, I can see her. She's right over there by the other-" His voice failed as he watched her stick her head through the teleporter and then looked down. "Uh oh."

Tucker glanced carefully over her shoulder and spotted Tex's head right under them. "Grif, I see her."

At once, Tex reached up and punched Grif right in the genitals before ducking back out. As he grabbed them, he suddenly fell right into the teleporter. "What is your problem with my balls?"

But now Tucker was left completely off-balance. "Whoa, who-whoa, aw crap!" he yelped as he fell in after Grif.

As he stumbled out the other side, Tex grabbed him, tilted back and suplexed him right into the floor then she mounted his chest and started punching him in the face. "Wow, right into the mount, huh?" Tucker groaned between punches. "You not even gonna buy me dinner? I like your style."

Sarge turned to his pet private still holding the launcher. "Simmons, what are you waiting for?"

"They look the same," Simmons stammered, flicking the sights between Tex and the blackened Tucker. "Which one do I shoot?"

"Shoot the one who's winning, dumbass!" Tucker shouted.

As Simmons took aim, Grif suddenly staggered into the line of fire, still cradling his testicles. "Grif, watch it!"

Tex then kicked Tucker forward, knocking him into Grif then she grabbed his leg, pulled him back and punched him to the ground so hard that the black ash flew off his armor as he skidded back towards the Reds.

"Wow, she knocked the black right off ya," Sarge gasped.

"That's racist," Tucker groaned as he got to his feet.

"You're all clear, Simmons," Sarge yelled. "Now shoot her!"

Simmons nodded and raised the rocket launcher. "Fire in the hole!"

But as he fired the heat-seeking rocket, Tex took off and leapt into the teleporter, flipping out the other side and then running straight towards Tucker and the Reds, the missile still on her tail.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tucker cried out. "RUN!"

But as he turned, he bumped into Sarge and Simmons. Then Tex ran up and knocked all three down with a single punch before sliding right between Grif's legs. Grif looked up and spotted the missile moving right towards him. "Oh God, not the balls!" He grabbed his genitals but the missile just zoomed right between his legs. "Oh thank God, I thought I was-" He looked round, just as Tex leapt into the second teleporter and the missile flew towards the propane tanks. "_FUUUUUUUUUCKED!_"

As the missile hit, the tanks' tops ripped off and they jetted towards Tucker and the Reds like mini-rockets. Grif was sent flying by a tank that hit him in the balls while the others were knocked into the air by the tanks' explosions.

Meanwhile Tex leapt out the other side of the teleporter and watched as Tucker, Sarge and Simmons went crashing to the ground. Then she stepped up to a cement barricade and carefully pushed it aside then she looked up and pushed it a few more inches and then she waited until Grif landed right on it, crotch-first. "OOOOWWWW! Why don't you just kill me?"

**(A.N.: That now makes it seven testicle-based attacks on Grif for those keeping score and shame on you if you were.)**

As Grif slid off the barrier to the floor, Tex turned and started towards the others… but then a monitor bounced off the side of her head and she turned round… to see a cobalt-blue Spartan standing in the doorway, holding a sniper rifle in his hands. "Hey, Tex," he called out in a very familiar voice. "How 'bout you pick on somebody your own size?"

* * *

**Oh yeah, Church is back, baby!**


	11. Restraining Orders

**Now that Epsilon has a body again, this will be the showdown of the ages!**

* * *

Chapter 11: Restraining Orders

"Ow! Ow! OW! Stop it! Tex, you're embarrassing me!"

**(Yeah, I actually figured that out from the start.)**

Epsilon's brave attempt to help the others had fallen completely through because Tex had simply walked up to him, picked up his old monitor body and started beating the crap out of him with it. "Ow! Stop! AH!" He turned to Tucker and the Reds as he was being beaten. "Hey, are you gonna- OW! You gonna help or not? Stop it!"

"Naw, buddy, I think you got everything under control," Sarge replied. "We'll just hang back here."

"Yeah, you've got some catching up to do," Grif agreed, clutching a med kit over his crushed testicles.

"Hey what's she beating him with?" Sarge asked.

"I think that was his old body," Simmons replied.

"You mean he ain't a floating cue ball anymore?" Sarge sighed in disappointment. "That's too bad. I had a few more nicknames in my side pocket. We'll certainly miss you, Lord Hackensack of the Roundalots."

"Beating him with his old body?" Grif muttered. "That doesn't seem physically possible."

In the control room, Caboose watched the scene with horror. "Uh, we have to do something."

"I am sorry," FILSS replied. "As I said, I cannot operate outside the bounds of my standard safety protocols."

Caboose glanced at the screen. "What if I said… pretty please?"

"Private Caboose, is there a reason why you _don't want_ to use one of the standard safety protocols?" FILSS asked puzzled. "In this scenario, I would strongly recommend locking down the armor of any rogue unit."

Caboose gasped. "Wait, you can do that?"

"Of course. Armor lock is a standard safety feature since the Freelancer break-in."

"Well, why didn't you tell us that?"

"Why would I need to tell the Director that? He wrote the protocol himself."

"Oh right, yes of course he did," Caboose muttered sheepishly. "Um Sheila, could you do the armor lunchable thing that you said?"

"Certainly."

In the storeroom, Epsilon was now on the floor but Tex was still pounding him when suddenly some loud chimes rang out through the speakers followed by FILSS' voice. "Now initiating standard safety protocol. Armor lockdown in progress. All units stand by for lockdown."

As Tex raised her fist again, she suddenly felt her armor stiffen up and she glanced round to see an electric field rippling over her suit of armor.

"What's happening?" Epsilon gasped, as she toppled off him. "Caboose, what did you do to her?"

"Yes, I did it!" Caboose cheered. "I am the biggest hero ever! I beat up the girl!"

As Tucker ran over to help his teammate, Sarge turned to his privates with a laugh. "Yes! See, that's how you do it, Grif. Face your enemy man to man, or in your case woefully inadequate man to woman, and then when she's distracted, use superior technology to take her out." He then sniffed. "Reminds me of prom night..."

"We didn't do anything," Grif pointed out. "She shut down."

"I am the best!" Caboose yelled, running out of the control room.

Simmons was still staring up at the speakers. "Uh, hey guys? What do you think that voice meant by 'all units'?"

Before Sarge could reply, he suddenly felt his armor stiffen and from the sounds of their cries, he guessed that the same was happening to Grif and Simmons. "AHHH! I can't move!"

"I did it, I-" Caboose stopped cheering as he ran in and spotted the Reds frozen in place, Simmons still looking at the ceiling, Sarge looking at Simmons and Grif still holding the med kit over his groin. "Not my fault, I did not do this!" he yelped, running back to the control room. "The computer made suggestions and the default option was yes!"

"Well, this is just _great_," Grif groaned through stiff lips.

As Tucker helped him sit up, Epsilon stared at the frozen Reds in horror. "What's happening? Caboose, make it stop! Make it st-OOOW!" He and Tucker suddenly stiffened as the armor lock affected them too.

In the control room, Caboose stared down at the motionless Reds and Blues. "Uh, Sheila, is my armor gonna lockdown too?"

"No, Caboose," FILSS replied. "Your helmet does not have that particular protocol installed in it. I had assumed that was the reason why you were wearing that-"

"Yes, that is totally the reason," Caboose cut in, secretly relieved that he had chosen the right armor upgrade. _What the hell does Church know?_

Meanwhile back at Sandtrap, Washington glanced around at the alien bodies, the result of the Meta's attack. "Well, so much for the 'leave one of them alive' strategy," he sighed. "Doc, where are you?"

"Here!" Doc called out, poking his head out from the freighter's side-door.

"Still alive," Wash sighed in relief, and mild disappointment. "I thought you'd been killed in the battle."

"No, don't worry," Doc reassured. "I'm still alive."

"I didn't say I was worried," Wash retorted. "Get down here and see if any of these things are still breathing."

Doc looked puzzled. "Me?"

"You're a medic. Get medical."

"I'm a _human_ medic. I don't even understand alien physiology."

"I want you to see if they're alive," Wash growled. "I don't want you to check their cholesterol levels. Just get down here."

"Geez, fine!" Doc sighed as he climbed down the ladder. "What's with the anger?"

Wash then made his way round the side off the Elephant to where the Meta was glancing around the desert growling in impatience. "Meta, you search the camp. See if you can find anything useful for us, any clues where Epsilon went."

The Meta turned to Wash and let out an angry hiss.

"_Don't_ start with me," Wash snapped. "I've already reached my tolerance level for management issues."

With a growl, the Meta ran off towards a nearby crevice in the ruins.

Doc looked up from his work and shook his head. "_He's_ getting fussy."

"Tell me about it," Wash agreed, rolling his eyes.

As they waited, Doc lifted his head up and shaded his eyes from the burning sun. "Maybe we should take a break."

Wash turned and stared at Doc. "Excuse me, a break?"

"Yeah, like a three day leave! Everyone go off, recharge their mental batteries, come back refreshed, and like ready to tackle our challenges."

"You want a vacation?"

"I call it a Soul Sabbatical."

"What are we, mailmen? This is a military mission. We don't get a vacation. We don't take sick days, we don't get paid overtime."

Doc stared at him in amazement. "What, Freelancers don't get overtime?"

"That's right. We have a job to do, and we're expected to stick with-" Wash stopped and looked over at Doc. "Wait, why, do _you?_"

"Get overtime? Yeah. Time and a half over forty hours, time and a half and a _half_ after sixty."

Wash frowned. "Really?"

"You guys don't get that?" Doc asked puzzled. "That's crazy, you work so hard."

"Tell me about it," Wash sighed.

"You guys should strike," Doc suggested.

"We're not unionizing," Wash snapped. "Stop instigating."

Doc returned to his work on the aliens then he added, "Tell me they at least match your 401K."

"Shut up," Wash snarled.

Just then, there came a deep growl from the crevice and Doc looked up in alarm. "What was that?"

"Quiet," Wash hissed, slowly approaching the ruins. "What did you find, Meta?"

In response, a grenade was thrown out and Wash jumped aside before it exploded. "Hey, watch it! Meta, come out here, now."

The Meta just growled back in response and Wash turned to the medic. "Doc, get in there and see what he found."

Doc suddenly looked very nervous. "Which Doc; is there another Doc here? I know you're not talking to me. Yeah, you know, it's probably better if you go in? Historically, I don't really have the best success rate going in caves. They tend not to work out for me. It was before your time but trust me. You don't want any part of that."

* * *

**I find that historically Doc gets more in the story when he's with a bad guy, am I right?**


	12. Snooze Button

**This next chapter will seem very familiar to readers of my earlier stories.**

* * *

Chapter 12: Snooze Button

As Epsilon slowly opened his eyes, he found himself in a very strange place. He was still in the storage area, but the colors were dull and muted and there was no sign of Tucker or the Reds. "What happened?" he muttered, in an echoing voice. "Where am I?"

"Safety Protocols were initiated," FILSS replied. "Please remain calm."

Epsilon looked round in confusion. "Sheila, is that you?"

"Yes."

"What is this place?"

"Your operator has been injured or incapacitated, and you are now in Recovery Mode. You will remain in this state until such time as you can be extracted by a Recovery Agent, or your operator regains consciousness."

"Wait!" Epsilon gasped, getting to his feet. "You didn't send a Recovery Beacon, did you? Because that would be really-"

"Recovery Beacons only arm once a unit leaves the facility," FILSS interrupted. "This unit has yet to leave this facility. Therefore we must first-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Epsilon sighed in relief. He then turned round and spotted a black figure standing sulkily in the corner. "Is that Tex?"

"Affirmative," FILSS replied. "Technically, she is not present in this environment, but if you would like to speak to her, I can relay communication through external channel."

"Yes, please," Epsilon said.

There was a pause then FILSS spoke again. "I am sorry but she has refused the connection. She should not be able to do that."

"Yeah, that's not surprising," Epsilon muttered. "Can you force it through?"

"I can try but I would not recommend that action."

"Because I might damage her?"

"No, I have just learned that when a woman wants to be left alone, it is best to leave her alone."

"Yeah, good call," Epsilon decided. "Hey, get me out of this but, uh, leave her in there until I figure out what to do with her."

"Suit yourself," FILSS replied.

Just then Tex turned to look at him and Epsilon took a step back. "Uh, she didn't hear that, did she?"

"Unclear," FILSS said.

"I thought you weren't relaying my messages!" Epsilon yelled.

"Recovery Mode disabled," FILSS stated.

At once Epsilon blinked… and he was back in the real world once more. "You women always stick together," he muttered, getting to his feet. "Oh man, I hope she didn't hear _that._"

Meanwhile at Sandtrap, Washington and Doc stood outside the crevice in the ruins, waiting for the Meta to emerge.

"Are you going in or not?" Wash yelled.

"Oh, do I have a choice?" Doc retorted. "Then not, I'm gonna go with that one."

Wash sighed and turned to the crevice. "Meta, get out here!"

The Meta growled back in response.

"Yeah, I'm definitely gonna stick with not," Doc gulped, backing away from the crevice. "That seems like the best one of those two choices you gave me."

Wash grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards the hole. "Get in there!"

"Tell you what, put me back in the wall," Doc whined, pulling his arm free. "I like the wall. It was cozy and it protected me. I miss my wall!"

Wash groaned and slapped his hand over his visor. "You are utterly useless. I know we brought you along for a reason, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it is."

"The important thing is we're becoming friends," Doc replied. "They say the bonds of men in combat are as strong as brotherhood!"

Wash growled and looked into the cavern. "Meta, get out here… please!"

The Meta responded with an angry roar.

"Boy, he sounds tense," Doc muttered. "Maybe you should give him a backrub. That would be weird, right, one Freelancer giving another a backrub?"

Wash glared at the medic. "Aren't you trained in stress management or something? Calm him down!"

"That only works if the person _wants_ to be calm. I don't think he qualifies."

"Listen Meta, whatever you found, we can deal with it, I promise," Wash called into the cave. "Just come out here and show me what it is."

In response, the Meta got up and hurled something out of the cave.

"WHOA!" Wash yelled, ducking his head.

"Funky butt-lovin'!" Doc cried, diving onto the sand.

Wash then turned to look at what the Meta had thrown: a strange purple capsule marked with a sapphire-blue symbol that looked like a wide 'E'. "Oh. You found… that."

Back at the Facility, Epsilon got FILSS to turn off Tucker's Recovery Mode and was now helping his teal teammate onto his feet (He'd been kneeling when the lockdown occurred).

"Oh God, that sucked!" Tucker groaned. "What was all that glowing shit?"

"Sheila put us in lockdown to save us," Epsilon replied.

"She knocked us out to save us?" Tucker muttered. "That makes sense."

"Hey, at least we're not getting our asses kicked today?" Epsilon pointed out. "That's an improvement."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Tucker conceded. "I can't argue with results."

They then went over to the rigid Reds and noted their positions, Simmons looking at the ceiling, Sarge looking at Simmons and Grif looking very stunned.

"Sheila, can they uh, can they hear me?" Epsilon asked.

"Affirmative," FILSS replied.

"She said yes," Caboose shouted through the speakers.

"We heard her, dipshit!" Tucker snapped.

"I know!" Caboose replied. "I just want to use the microphone. It makes me sound super loud! I'm not sure if you can tell."

Tucker then looked at Epsilon for a moment. "Hey, where'd you get the new body?"

"Long story, dude," Epsilon replied. "I'll tell you later."

"Man, I know I asked," Tucker sighed. "But I don't really give a shit, Church."

"Attention, Freelancer shoppers!" Caboose then shouted through the microphone. "We have a special on submachine guns in aisle seven!"

"Sheila, mute him!" Epsilon ordered.

"Affirmative," FILSS replied.

"This is Michael J Caboose signing-" He then realized that the mike was now switched off. "Aw, man!"

Meanwhile in Recovery Mode, Simmons glanced around the very dull-colored room in complete confusion before he noticed that Sarge and Grif were there too. "Sarge, where are we?"

"Men, I have bad news for all of us," Sarge replied grimly. "We're dead, which in the case of Grif is good news for me, but still bad news overall."

"Dead?" Simmons cried. "I can't be dead! I still have so much to do!"

"Uh, like what?" Grif asked.

"Like… everything that doesn't involve a computer…" Simmons let out a sigh. "Man, it's been a one-track life for me."

Grif then took a look at their surroundings. "So this is the after-life, huh? Not bad, it's kind of grainy, but overall I can't complain."

"This is just the stage before we move on, like purgatory," Sarge said.

"Ooh, or like the last episode of Lost," Simmons added.

"Hey, I haven't seen that yet!" Sarge yelled, placing his hands on the sides of his helmet. "No spoilers!"

Simmons stared at him baffled. "That show was hundreds of years ago!"

"La-la-la-la, don't say anything else!" Sarge shouted.

"Give me a break," Simmons sighed.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," Grif decided. "See you losers in 14 hours."

"Grif, no napping!" Sarge snapped.

"Sorry Sarge, but you always said I can sleep when I was dead," Grif retorted, sitting by a crate. "And guess what? I _am_ dead!" He yawned and leaned against the crate. "So this purgatory is about to be become a purga-snory!"

"Grif!" Sarge bellowed.

"Hey Reds!" a voice suddenly called out from all around. "Can you hear me?"

"Who in Sam Heaven is that?" Sarge gasped.

"Is that God?" Simmons breathed.

"Hey Almighty, can it!" Grif yawned. "Some of us are trying to get a little shut-eye."

"No blasphemy!" Sarge snapped.

"What do you want, God?" Simmons stammered in a trembling voice. "Take Grif, he's been terrible. I've been great!"

"It's not God, dude!" Tucker's voice called out. "It's Church. He just thinks he's God."

In the real world, Tucker sighed and rolled his eyes. "Man, this is just what you need, more people worshipping you."

"Yeah," Epsilon agreed. "Hey listen, we want to let you out, but we don't want you to attack us or Tex, OK?"

"Attack Tex?" Simmons cried through clenched teeth. "She attacked us!"

"Fuck you guys!" Grif yelled stiffly.

"I would never hit a girl!" Sarge grunted.

"Just agree and we'll let you out," Epsilon urged.

Simmons let out an angry sigh. "_Fine_…"

"Whatever," Grif added in annoyance.

Sarge just let out some irritated grumbles.

"I'm gonna assume that last one was a yes," Epsilon decided. "Alright, let 'em out, Sheila!"

"Affirmative," FILSS replied. "Ending Recovery Mode, Red units."

At once, the electric fields around the Reds faded and they staggered aside. Simmons lowered his head down, Grif dropped the med kit to the floor and Sarge sighed and rubbed his neck. "Ahhh, my neck was killing me!"

* * *

**Hope that little venture explains one gaping hole from my story.**


	13. Battle of the Exes

**We've got our guys moving again, now there's just Tex left.**

* * *

Chapter 13: Battle of the Exes

At Sandtrap, Washington and Doc watched as the Meta grabbed the Epsilon unit and tried to pry it open with his bare hands, growling in effort.

Wash quickly snatched the unit away then placed it next to his helmet to listen, but he couldn't hear any humming. "Don't get excited. It's empty."

"What is it?" Doc asked curiously.

"This is the Epsilon unit," Wash explained.

"This is what you've been looking for?"

"Yes."

"Not what I was expecting," Doc muttered. "I mean, I like the color, but other than that, Nah."

Wash looked up as he remembered something. "Clearly they transferred Epsilon into that floating thing we saw."

Doc raised an eyebrow. "You saw a floating thing?"

"Yes, like a metal eye," Wash replied. "It shot a laser at us."

"Yeah, okay…" Doc placed his hand on Wash's arm and made to move towards the crevice. "Hey, Wash, this sun is really hot; maybe we should find you some shade."

"I'm _not_ hallucinating," Wash snapped, pulling his arm away. "Meta saw it too."

The Meta just shook his head, gave a confused hiss and shrugged.

"Oh yes you did!" Wash bellowed. "Don't even try that."

"Wash, do you see the floating eyeball now?" Doc asked, in the manner of a concerned parent. "Is he here with us?"

"Don't psychoanalyze me!" Wash yelled.

"I'd like to talk to the laser eye for a minute, Wash."

"Shut up!" Wash snapped, pushing Doc away then he tossed the unit back to his colleague. "Meta, let's convert this to a recovery unit. But be careful, this thing looks like it's in bad shape."

With a nod and a growl, the Meta went over to the campsite, picked up some tools and set to work.

"What's he doing?" Doc asked.

"This is a storage unit, but we're trained to modify them," Wash explained. "We can change a storage unit into a capture unit. That way, the next time we see Epsilon, he won't get away."

Doc frowned at him. "Are you talking about the regular Epsilon, or the Epsilon who's just a floating head that visits you when you're alone?"

"I'm not crazy!" Wash yelled. "And it was just the eye that was floating around, not a whole head."

"Yes, Wash, because the _whole head_ is what makes it crazy," Doc replied and was punched in the face for that.

Meanwhile at the Freelancer Offsite Storage Facility, Caboose rejoined his teammates as they and the Reds stood around the incapacitated Tex.

"I'm waking her up," Epsilon decided.

"No way, buddy," Sarge retorted. "You must have missed the smash-fest we just went through. I ain't repeating that."

"Hey, we made a deal," Epsilon reminded him. "I unlock you; you have to help me with her."

"Hey, now hold on a second," Grif started.

"This affects the entire group," Simmons cut in. "I say we put it to a vote. All those in favor of waking her up and letting her kill us, say aye."

"Aye," Epsilon replied. "Caboose?"

"Present," Caboose said.

"No, we're not doing that. Just say aye."

"You. Oops, I mean me!"

"No, _aye_."

"Church."

"_Just say aye!_"

"Oh, I get it, right sorry. My left eye or my right eye?"

Epsilon sighed. "He votes yes."

"I would also like it noted that I was present," Caboose added.

"Okay," Sarge said. "And everyone in favor of not doing that thing and leaving her asleep and not getting killed by the person we're not going to wake up because nobody is that stupid, say nay."

"That was like a quadruple negative," Simmons noted.

"Just vote," Sarge ordered.

"Um, nay?"

"I didn't even understand the question," Grif muttered. "So I'm just gonna say blueberry."

"Fuck it, veto, she comes out," Epsilon decided, stepping up to Tex. "So Sheila, is there any way to turn her only, you know _partway_ back on?"

"No, I am sorry," FILSS replied. "I can either leave her in lock, or take her out of lock. There is no in between."

"So she's either completely asleep or full-on bitch," Tucker chuckled. "She sounds like my ex-wife."

"You were married?" Caboose asked.

"Ew, gross, I hope not," Tucker grimaced.

"Well, we have to do something," Epsilon murmured.

"Why do people always say that?" Grif cried. "'We have to do something.' We don't have to _do_ anything. Let's just let sleeping maniacs lie."

"Here, let me try this." Epsilon then stepped out of his robot body, went up to Tex and jumped into her mind.

When he opened his eyes, he found himsefl back in Recovery Mode then he spotted Tex still sulking in the corner where he'd seen her last. "Tex?" he called out as he approached her. "Tex, hello? Can you hear me?"

Tex glanced over her shoulder then looked away again. "Of course I can hear you. What do you want?"

Epsilon looked puzzled. "What do you mean, 'what do I want?' The guys just wanna make sure you're not gonna, you know beat the living shit out of them if we wake you up."

Tex let out a snigger. "Aw, what're they gonna do, cry?"

"What's wrong with you?" Epsilon yelled. "And why did you go nuts when we woke you up?"

Now Tex turned round to glare at him. "Last time I was in a place like this, I was trying to get _out_ as fast as I could."

"Yeah, I remember."

"They just got in my way. It's not my fault they can't fight."

Epsilon raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Okay, so is that 'I _won't_ beat the living shit out of them anymore?'"

Tex shrugged. "We'll see."

"I guess that'll have to do."

"But, I _am_ gonna deck the one with the sword for making that stupid ex-wife crack."

"Alright, that seems fair," Epsilon decided. "So we're cool?"

"Well, I'm cool," Tex muttered.

Epsilon smiled and held out his hand. "Nice to have you back, Tex. It's always a pleasure."

"Hey, I didn't ask to come back," Tex snapped, slapping his hand away. "Apparently somebody decided they couldn't live without me."

"I thought you would be happy," Epsilon retorted. "You know, being alive is typically better than being dead."

"Yeah," Tex scoffed. "Everybody always seems to know what's best for Tex."

"So this is it?" Epsilon scowled. "You're just going to be abrasive right outta the gate? Not even a thank you?"

"Oh I see," Tex sneered. "We're gonna make this about you for a change. How refreshing."

"Alright, I'm gonna go now," Epsilon muttered crossly. "Nice talking to ya."

"Yeah, see ya," Tex jeered back.

Epsilon then jumped out of Tex's body and then reclaimed his robot self.

"What did she say?" Tucker asked.

"Okay, I think we got it worked out," Epsilon murmured.

"She cool?" Grif asked hopefully.

"As cool as she'll ever be," Epsilon replied.

"That does not inspire confidence in me," Grif gulped.

"Wake her up, Sheila," Epsilon called out.

"Affirmative," FILSS replied.

As the electric field around Tex faded, Simmons pushed his teammates away. "Back up, back up."

"Ending Recovery Mode, all units," FILSS announced.

Just then, Tex let out a groan and sat up.

"Uh, how're you feeling?" Epsilon asked.

In reply, Tex leapt to her feet, ran up to Tucker and punched him right in the face. "OW!"

"Better now," she told Epsilon.

"What the fuck?" Tucker yelled as he sat up.

"Oh right," Epsilon muttered sheepishly. "I forgot to mention one thing."

What the Reds and Blues didn't know was that FILSS' announcement didn't just affect Tex…

…For some distance away, outside the Blue Base at Valhalla, a Spartan-II in bright pink armor suddenly stirred and sat up with a groan. "What happened? Who shot me? What a jerk!" He then looked down and let out an angry sigh. "Ah man, I got blood over my good shoes. These stains are never gonna come out."

* * *

**I put in this last bit because I wanted to assure people that Donut is still alive. But don't hold out any hopes in his appearing in the rest of this part.**


	14. Reconfiguration

**We're now checking to see how Wash's trap is getting on.**

* * *

Chapter 14: Reconfiguration

At Sandtrap, the Meta returned after three hours of work carrying the modified Epsilon unit, which was now greenish with a long spike sticking out one end.

Washington looked up as the Meta reached the freighter. "Great, he's done."

Doc carefully took the unit out of the Meta's hands and noted the blue sparks shooting out of it. "Why is it sparking like that?"

"This thing's been through a lot," Wash explained. "It's pretty badly damaged. But now that it's a capture unit, we just need to get it near Epsilon and we can pull him in."

But Doc still looked nervous. "What if it breaks?"

"Don't worry," Wash assured. "It'll hold until we get him. After that, it doesn't matter. It can short out for all I care."

"Then what's the point of all this?"

"I just have to deliver Epsilon to the Chairman," Wash replied, taking the unit away. "I don't have to guarantee what condition I deliver him in. He's just evidence anyway. Meta, grab it." As the Meta obeyed, Wash looked back at the medic. "Doc, get ready to move."

"Move?" Doc cried. "Move where? We don't know where they are."

"We know they're not _here,_" Wash replied. "So gather your gear and get ready to move out."

Doc glanced around the desert. "Well, can we track them?"

"_Track_ them?"

"You know, pick up a trail, like footprints."

Wash raised an eyebrow. "Footprints… in the desert."

"Don't you special agents have the ability to track their targets through any kind of terrain? Follow broken tree branches-"

Wash raised his other eyebrow. "Tree branches… in the desert."

"Okay, these are bad examples. Maybe heat signatures."

Wash held out his arms. "In the desert!"

"Like exhaust trails, I dunno."

Wash sighed and rolled his eyes. "Tell you what. Why don't you just stick to not understanding medicine? Don't feel the need to expand your sphere of ignorance."

"Fine," Doc sighed. "Geez, I'm just trying to help."

The Meta watched Doc run off to the dead aliens then turned to Wash with a growl.

"Him? Ah, he's always whining about something." Wash waited until Doc was out of earshot then he hissed, "Hey Meta, is there any way we could track the Reds by trying to pick up a trail, like a, uh heat signature or something?"

The Meta raised an eyebrow and hissed.

"Yes, I know we're in the desert," Wash groaned.

Meanwhile, at the Freelancer Offsite Storage Facility, Epsilon made his way over to where Tex was sitting on a small crate, her black helmet by her side. "So you back up to a hundred percent yet?"

"Yeah," Tex replied distractedly, rubbing her fingers over the blue ice diamond ring on the chain that Caboose had given her. "And whatever I didn't learn from Caboose, I've been able to pick up from the rest of the guys. It didn't take long."

"Yeah, we really don't seem to do much," Epsilon sighed.

"Maybe you should get a hobby, like knitting."

"We'll look into it."

Tex then put the chain round her neck and jumped off the crate. "Hey, how did you know how to bring me back?"

"Honestly I didn't have much choice," Epsilon admitted with a shrug. "I couldn't get you outta my head so I kind of… had to… get you… outta my head."

"Wow, how emo," Tex muttered. "Maybe you can blog about it."

"Hey, you asked."

Tex then glanced up at the speakers, running a hand through her short red hair. "When I was beating the hell out of the Reds, the alarm said it was 'Level Alpha.' Do you know why?"

"You know, I didn't think about that."

"Then I want you to have Sheila give me access to the files here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm gonna figure out exactly what they did to me here," Tex replied grimly. "I need to know who I am."

Epsilon placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know who you are. You're my girlfriend."

"Well, that's probably the most underwhelming description of all time," Tex snorted.

"Hey, lots of ladies would be happy to be my girlfriend," Epsilon snapped.

"What other women do you even know?" Tex retorted.

"Um, I, uh, well there's uh…" Epsilon scratched his head in thought. "Uh… Oh, Grif had a sister, she seemed to like me."

"I wouldn't be too proud of that," Tex scoffed. "She was pretty easy."

"How do you know she was easy, Tex?" Tucker called out, poking his head round the corner. "You know what, never mind, don't tell me. It's better in my head."

"Where did you even come from?" Epsilon cried.

"I'm always close by," Tucker replied.

Tex raised her battle rifle at the Blue. "Hey, can I kill him?"

"You can _hurt_ him," Epsilon replied. "Kill him later."

"Hmm, that actually sounds more fun," Tex agreed.

"Man, I though the old Church was whipped, but you're really taking it to a whole new level," Tucker muttered, as he ducked out.

"Why do you even put up with him?" Tex sighed.

"It's not so bad," Epsilon replied. "I mean, I admit sometimes it gets pretty hard and I really don't know how to handle it."

"And, now I'm back," Tucker said, peeking round again.

"Come on," Epsilon said. "Let's get in there."

Nearby the Reds watched as Epsilon and Tex set off down the passage.

"Simmons, this is our chance," Sarge exclaimed. "Get in the computer and start entering the Blues back in the database."

"Yes Sir," Simmons replied. "Come on, Grif. I need your help."

"_My_ help?" Grif cried. "With a computer? Simmons, you must have me confused with someone who can… help you with… the computer."

"Kinda lost your train of thought on that one," Sarge muttered.

"Yeah, a little bit," Grif agreed.

"Following the Blues is one thing," Simmons explained. "If I'm entering all these names and records, I need someone to hold up the papers for me."

"Uh, sorry dude," Grif replied, folding his arms. "Paper holder's not in my job description."

"No, but I'm gonna be working in the personnel files," Simmons pointed out. "So I can _add it_ to your job description. In fact, I can make your job whatever you want." He gave an evil smile. "How does 'Chief Executive Butt Taster' sound?"

"You can't do that!" Grif yelled.

"I can't? I thought you didn't understand how computers work." Simmons set off down the passage, calling over his shoulder, "In fact, while I'm there, why don't I just make you a woman? It's just a checkbox and we could always use a little more diversity in our team. I know Tucker will be happy."

Grif let out a snort. "Make me a woman, yeah right. Like changing a form would actually turn me into a woman. I mean that's just…" He trailed off as he glanced at his bruised genitals. "How stupid does he think I… I-I better go help him."

"Good call, numbnuts," Sarge chuckled as he watched Grif run off after Simmons.

Back at Sandtrap, the Meta made his way around the ruins until he picked up something in his helmet scanner and growled in triumph.

"That's great," Wash cried. "You picked up a trail, really?"

"Hi guys, what's up?" Doc called out as he approached.

"Oh, uh," Wash muttered sheepishly. "Meta here was able to pick up a faint trail of the Reds based on gas spectrometry and um… resident heat signatures."

"What?" Doc gasped. "I thought you said you couldn't do that."

"I didn't say we _couldn't_ do that," Wash argued. "I said you are an idiot. Those are two different discussions."

"I want credit for the idea," Doc insisted.

Wash sighed. "Doc, just let us do our job and you do your job. Anything medical to report?"

"No," Doc replied. "The dead aliens are still dead, also still aliens but that's less significant."

"Wonderful."

"Yeah, one other thing, you know that Stockholm Syndrome where prisoners start to like and identify with their captors after being held hostage for long enough?"

"What about it?"

Doc folded his arms crossly. "No one has that yet."

"The feeling is mutual," Wash agreed.

* * *

**Is there an opposite of Stockholm Syndrome? Oh wait there is, it's called intense distrust.**


	15. Check Your Local Listings

**After all that mucking around, we're now getting back to the mystery.**

* * *

Chapter 15: Check Your Local Listings

At the Freelancer Offsite Storage Facility, Tex and Simmons were in the control room trying to obtain some information from FILSS's databanks, but they weren't having much luck.

"And these are accurate, all of them?" Tex asked.

"As far as I can tell," FILSS replied.

Just then, Epsilon came into the room. "How's it going in here?"

"Well, I'm helping her access all this data," Simmons replied. "And she's not constantly pounding me in the face, so I would say that's good. Well, it's a start at least."

"Hey come over here," Tex called. As Epsilon went up to the computer, she pointed at the data on the screen. "Take a look at these. Sheila's giving us a hard time, but we're gettin' through. She only seems to want to listen to you."

"Sheila keeps calling me Director," Epsilon recalled. "Maybe that has something to do with it."

"The Director…" Tex looked it up on the info and shook her head. "Hmm, there's almost no information on him. I asked Sheila but-"

"I am sorry," FILSS cut in. "But access to the Director's personnel file is restricted."

"Yes, Sheila we know," Tex sighed. "You don't have to keep repeating it."

"I am just doing my job," FILSS said, slightly put-off.

Tex looked over to Simmons. "Can't you mute her?"

"Don't even think about it, buster," FILSS warned.

Simmons slowly backed away from the computer. "Uh, I really don't like it when girls pay direct attention to me."

"Well, what did you find in the files?" Epsilon asked.

"Not much," Tex admitted. "Standard clerical info, whole bunch of win/loss statistics, psych profiles-"

"_Psych_ profiles?" Epsilon interrupted.

"Yeah," Tex nodded. "They have one on everybody, except the Director and-"

"Let me guess, and you?" Epsilon put in.

"And _us_," Tex corrected. "No Church either. Everyone else is in there though, full profile."

"Washington used to wet the bed," Simmons sniggered before running off. "I'm gonna go tell the other guys."

Epsilon rolled his eyes then looked at the computer. "So, no new info? Wild goose chase again?"

"Maybe, maybe not…" Tex typed on the keyboard and an image appeared on the screen. "Look at this picture; do you have any idea what this is?"

Epsilon took a look. "What is that, ice?" The picture was almost completely white but he could just see a building in the corner. "Oh yeah, I know that place. That's a, uh secure location like, um, like a safe house. Wait, how do I know that?"

"You know it because it's a Freelancer base," Tex replied. "And it's not far from here."

Epsilon looked confused. "If you already know what it is, why the hell are you asking me?"

"Because I'm not interested in what I know," Tex answered. "I'm interested in what you know."

"What is that, fucking wisdom?" Church snapped. "Listen, next time you wanna ask me a Goddamn question, just ask it. Don't beat around the bush."

"I couldn't take the risk," Tex explained. "You might have just told me what I wanted to hear. You _are_ completely fucking whipped."

"Told you so!" Tucker called out.

Tex sighed then she stepped out of the room. "I'm gonna go see what weapons they have stored here."

"Okay," Epsilon said. "You need any help?"

"Director?"

"Huh, what?" Epsilon turned and spotted FILSS on the screen.

"Before you leave, would you like to make a journal entry?" FILSS offered. "It had been quite a while since your last update."

Epsilon frowned. "_Journal?_"

"Yes," FILSS replied. "I know you are busy, but you always ask me to remind you when you are falling behind on documentation. Documentation is an important part of any scientific endeavor."

"Right, um…" Epsilon thought about for a moment. "Hey, why don't you play one of the entries for me?"

"Certainly," FILSS replied.

Then from the speakers, there came a voice with a soft Southern accent. "The Counselor's insistence on referring to Agent Texas as a byproduct continues to frustrate me. We have seen our share of unharvestable fragments. She is certainly not one of them. No indeed, she's something else entirely."

Epsilon listened to the entry with great interest. "Sheila, I want you to transfer all these files to me."

"Understood," FILSS said. "Transferring now…"

Epsilon nodded then turned to leave. "And do me a favor: delete the rest."

"Deleting entries…"

Outside Sarge watched the activities through the scope of his sniper rifle. "Hmmm, what are the Blues up to?"

"Probably the same thing they're always up to," Grif replied. "Looking at us and going 'Hmmm, I wonder what those Reds are up to?'"

At that moment, Epsilon passed them on the ramp. "Hey, Grif."

"Hey man, what's up?" Grif replied.

Sarge lowered the rifle. "Grif, where's Simmons?"

Grif shrugged. "He's messing around with some storage boxes, trying to inventory 'em and see if we need anything, you know nerd stuff."

"That's resourceful," Sarge said impressed. "Why aren't you helping him?"

"I _am_ helping him."

"How are you helping him standing right here?"

"Oh, I'm on break for fifteen minutes."

"You're always on break."

"Hey if you don't use it, you lose it. Speaking of which, I'm also on Simmons' break."

Sarge shook his head in dismay. "You know, I've reached a level where I'm not even disappointed in you."

"How do you think _I_ feel? I'm spending my break talking about Simmons." Grif sighed. "I'd envisioned so much more."

"Break's over," Sarge ordered. "Go see what he's up to."

"_Fine,_" Grif groaned.

"Fine what?"

"Fine, Sir," Grif muttered, setting off down the passage.

"That's more like it," Sarge said.

As Grif went through the storage room, he spotted Epsilon meeting up with Tucker and Caboose and decided to hear what they were doing.

"Hey, have you guys seen Tex anywhere?" Epsilon asked then he looked round. "Oh there you are- Whoa!" He then noticed that Tex was now wearing black Mark VI armor, her helmet under her arm, with a pistol and combat knife on her belt and a battle rifle in one hand. "What's with the new armor?"

"I'm leaving, Church," she replied.

"What?" Epsilon gasped. "Where?"

"I can't say," she said. "There are some things I need to look into."

Epsilon's eyes narrowed. "You're going to that frozen base, aren't you?"

"I need to know more about myself, Church," Tex replied grimly. "And I'm not gonna find anything out by sitting around on my ass with all of you."

"Well, let us come with you," Epsilon offered.

"You guys?" Tex cried. "This is a military operation. I need people with military training."

"We have military training," Grif spoke up.

Tex raised an eyebrow. "Um, I need people who _understand_ the military training."

"Wow, look who's getting picky," Grif murmured.

"Yeah, beggars can't be choosers," Tucker agreed.

Tex shook her head. "No offense but you guys just end up slowing me down half the time or… more than half the time." She looked over at Epsilon. "All the time is more than half the time, right?"

"You know what, fuck it," Grif retorted, turning to leave. "Why are we even arguing about this? We don't wanna go anyway."

"Yeah," Tucker agreed, leading Caboose away as he left. "Good luck on your mission to the empty base guarded by tons of _real military dudes_ who're all looking for you anyway."

"Yeah," Grif yelled over his shoulder. "Hope you find your empty base and your files full of nothing."

Epsilon shook his head and turned to Tex as she put her helmet on. "Well I'm going, and I'm not gonna let you stop me."

"Yeah?" Tex thought for a moment then she nodded. "Okay. I have a feeling I could use you before this is done."

As she and Epsilon made for the exit, Tucker turned round and yelled, "Oh, and when you both get killed again, be sure to let us know. That way we can revive you so that you can run off and get killed… _again._ Seriously, it never gets old to us."

Caboose just gave a nervous look as he watched Epsilon follow Tex out. _Be careful out there, Church…_

Nearby, Grif spotted Simmons rummaging through some crates at the back of the storage room. "Yo."

Simmons stood up and held some glowing metal objects. "Very interesting…"

"Sarge wants to know what you're doing over here, dipshit," Grif said. "I added the dipshit."

"I think I found where the Freelancers stored some of their equipment for their armor," Simmons explained.

"Okay, okay stop," Grif cut in quickly. "I'll just tell Sarge Simmons is doing something seriously fucking boring. Thanks."

He turned to go, but Simmons grabbed his shoulder and turned him back round. "The Freelancers all had AI and a special power, right?" He held up a glowing object. "This is the equipment that lets them do that."

Now Grif looked very intrigued. "Oh cool, like the invisibility and super strength and stuff?"

"Yeah, we can just hook them up to our armor and activate it."

"And they would work?"

"Well they need an AI to help them run exactly right," Simmons admitted, looking through the equipment again. "But they have to help in some way."

Grif let out a grin. "Would they even work when we're asleep?"

"I guess so, why?" Simmons then looked up and glared at Grif. "Wait, you wanna turn invisible and take a nap, don't you?"

"Think about it, Simmons," Grif chuckled. "The ability to nap whenever I want and Sarge can never find me. Invisible nap is the best nap of all time."

Simmons went up to his face and glowered at him. "No man should have that kind of power."

Grif glared back at him. "I would be completely unstoppable."

"Actually, you would be the exact opposite of that."

"Totally stoppable. Already stopped." Grif stepped back with a confident grin. "Think about it, Simmons."

"I really don't want to," Simmons retorted, turning away and folding his arms.

"_Think about it._"

"No."

After a while, Grif stepped up to him. "Are you thinking about it?"

Simmons sighed and lowered his arms in defeat. "Unfortunately, yes I am."

Grif grabbed a piece of equipment and held it up. "Then suit me up."

* * *

**This is going to be interesting.**


	16. Standardized Testing

**We're now moving on to a different area. You can tell because it's starting to snow.**

* * *

Chapter 16: Standardized Testing

After traveling a long distance, Epsilon and Tex finally reached their destination, the complex called Avalanche in the snowy region of Sidewinder. When they reached Avalanche, they spotted three guards standing outside waiting for some action and bitching about the cold, but Tex took them out with three shots from her pistol.

"_Wow,_" Epsilon breathed. "You took out all those guys at once? Was that really necessary?"

"Eh, they'll live," Tex replied with a shrug.

"No, they won't."

Tex took a moment to note the blood on the guards' heads. "Oh. Yeah, I see your point. Come on, let's get inside."

"Ok." Epsilon glanced at the bodies as he followed. "Man, those guys got fucked up." Then he looked up and gasped as the vision of Tex entering the Blue Base at Valhalla flashed across his mind. "What? Wait a minute…" He gasped in realization. "Oh no… Tex, hold on a second!"

Tex stopped at the entrance and turned round. "What's wrong?"

"Um, yeah," Epsilon muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't know if I mentioned this before, but I've kind of had psychic visions about this place. Yeah, I thought it was Valhalla at first, but I guess it turns out it was here… I probably should have told you this earlier."

Tex frowned at him. "Yes, you should have told me this earlier."

"Well, I'm telling you now. Does that count?"

"Do you think it counts?"

"Nah, probably not," Epsilon admitted.

"You're not psychic, genius. You're just remembering. You've been here before." Tex turned towards the complex and sighed. "We all were."

She led Epsilon into the complex, down some corridors until they reached a huge empty chamber. "This is where they moved Alpha. After a few of us Freelancers went rogue, we compared notes and pieced together what they were doing to him. I convinced them to come back and break him out. The project moved him here to try and protect him, so that they could keep experimenting on him."

"Whoa," Epsilon gasped. "You were in charge of the break-in?"

"I couldn't just let them destroy him. He was being tortured." Tex pointed to a nearby computer screen built into a pillar. "The Director had even started to use some of the other AI against him. Think about that. Turning his own pieces against him? That's sick. Gamma and Omega would fabricate scenarios where he was designed to fail, and they made it seem like his failures were hurting all of the people he cared about. And there was nothing he could do about it. It drove him mad, broke him down even more."

"But you came back," Epsilon breathed. "You saved him."

Tex sighed and bowed her head. "No… I didn't. It was too late. By the time I got to him, he was already long gone. I don't even think he recognized me." She lifted the ring up with one hand. "I failed… Only in my case, it really was my fault."

Meanwhile at Sandtrap, the Meta had grown tired of waiting around and was taking his frustration out on one of the dead aliens.

Washington watched him from a nearby dune with growing concern. "Doc, do you have a second?"

"I'm a prisoner, Wash," Doc replied. "I have nothing but seconds."

"Right, good point," Wash conceded.

"I mean, you don't even need to ask. You can just be like 'hey, prisoner number one, come here and talk to me, grrr I'm a Freelancer grrr.'"

"Ok, I get it."

"Yeah, you really need to step up your hostage taking skills."

Wash glared at him. "Stop lecturing me, or I will shoot you and feed you to the Meta."

Doc gulped nervously. "Does he eat people?"

"Do you really want to find out?"

"No. Maybe… If we used another person, sure, it's sounds kind of interesting."

Wash turned to look at the Meta. "You've spent some time with him now. What's your diagnosis?"

"Of who?" Doc asked. "The Meta?"

"Yes!" Wash snapped. "Pay attention to what's being said!"

"Testy," Doc muttered then aloud, "Well, based on what you've said, he's just underpowered. He has a bunch of equipment but he can't use it now."

"That's because he lost all of his AI," Wash explained.

"Wow… If I had all these cool fighting gadgets and I couldn't use them, I'd be pretty mad."

"Yeah," Wash murmured in agreement.

Doc looked round as the Meta flung an alien corpse into the air and then blew it to pieces with his brute shot. "What happens if he uses them without the help of the computer program?"

"Let me just put it this way…" Wash turned to stare at Doc. "It ain't pretty."

At that very moment, at the Freelancer Offsite Storage Facility, Simmons had just finished installing some equipment into Grif's armor. "All hooked up?"

"Yeah, installation was easy," Simmons replied. "Ready to turn it on?"

"Ready!" Grif replied.

"Now listen," Simmons informed him. "You don't have an AI, so nothing's going to help you make the calculations you need to use this thing. So just _take it easy._"

Grif gave him a confident look. "I was born to take it easy. Fire it up."

Simmons nodded and pressed the button on the equipment and as he did, Grif suddenly jerked up. "Ok it's on. Do you feel any different?"

Grif glanced around jerkily and then spoke in a very rapid manner. "No, kind of energetic, am I invisible? Huh? Am I? Am I? Can you see me?"

"Calm down," Simmons insisted. "No, I can still see you. Try jumping."

Grif nodded quickly and jumped… almost hitting his head against the ceiling. "I jumped, did that work, Simmons, I can do it again! Please let me do it again, want me to jump again? Watch, I'll do it again, I won't even stop, let me jump let me jump let me jump! Why aren't you answering me when I talk with my mouth?"

"Hmmm," Simmons pondered. "Walk over there. I have a theory. This one is either super healing or super-"

Grif then took off across the room at the speed of a super-cheetah. "WOOHOOOO!"

"Speed," Simmons finished with a sigh.

In the next room, Caboose was finished his story with Tucker. "Yeah, so then Church said 'I love you forever.'"

"That didn't happen," Tucker retorted.

Just then Grif went zooming right between them. "Hey, Caboose!"

"Whoa," Tucker gasped. "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?" Caboose asked then ten seconds later, "Hey, Grif!"

In another part of the storage room, Sarge was glancing over a forklift parking in a corner. "That is one fine piece of machinery," he muttered.

Then Grif zipped right behind and Sarge spun round as he felt the wind on his back. "Huh, why am I so angry all of a sudden?"

Grif then made his speedy way back to where Simmons was waiting anxiously for him. "Slow down, slow down! Grif, slow down!"

But Grif didn't hear him as he zipped past – "Yeeeeeehaaaaaa-OW!" – And ran smack straight into the wall.

**(Author pauses for a moment to burst out laughing.)**

Simmons ran up to him. "Hey asshole, are you dead?"

In response, Grif leapt nimbly to his feet and stared at the dent he'd made. "Ow. Whoa Simmons hey did you see that? Did you see? I saw it, I saw it totally, did you see? I hit that wall! That was fast! Man that was super fast, I'm so fast, God, so fast, why is it so _hot_ in here?"

"Grif, calm down!" Simmons yelled.

"I'm calm, I'm totally calm you be calm," Grif replied. "Why would you say to be calm when you know I'm already calm? Isn't it obvious that I'm calm? That doesn't even make any sense, you should make some sense, why's it so **hot** in here?"

Just then Sarge came running up to them. "What in Sam Hell is all the racket?"

Grif looked round and smiled. "Hey Sarge, what's up Sarge, Simmons is doing some experiments and I'm helping him Sarge. Right now we're doing one where everyone talks slow and the lights are super bright and I can smell clouds and man is it _**so hot**_ in here!"

"We installed a speed unit on Grif," Simmons explained more clearly. "And it's sort of… malfunctioning right now."

"Well, turn him off!" Sarge ordered.

"I can't!" Simmons cried. "They run on timers! We're just going to have to wait it out."

Sarge let out a sigh. "How long?"

"How long, what's long?" Grif babbled. "I like long stuff, I knew a giraffe once, I think it was in a book, a giraffe book, the book wasn't long but the giraffe totally was, because of the neck you know. You know what I mean, do you? Do you? The part that connects the head… to the body…" Grif suddenly slumped forward and began to slow down. "I'm gonna go to sleep now…" And he collapsed to the ground in a faint.

Simmons then nodded to Sarge. "Until now."

* * *

**Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.**


	17. Tenth Percentile

**Well, it only took seventeen episodes but now here's the titular revelation.**

* * *

Chapter 17: Tenth Percentile

Deciding to ditch the idea of using the Freelancer's equipment, Simmons and Grif went back to the control room to get to work on restoring the Blues to Command's database.

"That is not an approved operation," FILSS yelled as Simmons worked on the keyboard. "Hey! Watch it, buddy!"

"Can you show me the data logs?" Simmons asked.

"Affirmative," FILSS replied.

Just then Sarge came into the room. "Simmons, any progress in restoring the Blues?"

"It's a lot of data entry, Sir," Simmons admitted. "I was thinking I could hack the mainframe and reroute the data stream to-"

"Or, we could just restore it from an archive database," FILSS interrupted.

Simmons did a double-take. "What?"

"This is an off-site fallback facility," FILSS explained. "It is designed to have archives in case of data loss. Blue Team rosters would certainly be a part of that."

Simmons' jaw dropped. "_Really?_"

"Yes. In fact, I am glad you pointed out the database anomaly. I had noticed it before, but did not have time to investigate. Strange…"

"Oh…" Simmons muttered in disappointment. "Okay, yeah, restore that then."

FILSS was silent for a few seconds then a list of information appeared on the screen. "Done."

"Great," Simmons sighed.

"You seem disappointed," FILSS noted. "Did I do it too quickly and make you look bad?"

"No…"

"I could always pretend that you hacked me, if it would make you look better to your friends."

"Stop patronizing me," Simmons scowled.

"Affirmative. Patronizing subroutines are now offline."

Simmons glared at the screen. "You're still patronizing me, aren't you?"

"Kind of," FILSS replied.

While they were arguing, Grif looked at the information on the screen with worried intrigue. "Hmmm…"

"What is it, Grif?" Sarge asked.

"This is weird," Grif murmured. "If I'm reading this right, there's a bunch of other Red and Blue bases."

"Of course there are, Grif! The war is huge. The fate of the Galaxy rests in the balance."

"Or not," Grif replied.

Sarge frowned. "What's that mean?"

"Here, check this out." Grif pointed to some info on the screen. "I'm looking at the list of missions for all the different bases, and some of them look… familiar."

"Let me see." Simmons pushed his teammate aside and read the info himself. "Huh, apparently they set up bases in various locations and then send a Freelancer in for…" His eyes boggled. "…training purposes."

"_Training?_" Sarge cried.

"Practice," Grif explained.

"Practice?" Sarge squeaked.

"Yeah," Simmons nodded. "The Reds and Blues are just there to test the skills of the Freelancers."

"You mean the Blues."

"No I mean both of them- uh, both of us." Simmons looked at the screen. "It says here that 'simulation bases will present scenarios that may occur for Freelancer agents in a galactic battlefield.'"

Sarge was stunned. "Simu-what-tion?"

"He mean we're like lab rats," Grif replied.

"What-what-that's nonsense!" Sarge spluttered. "We've been through so much! We had that whole battle with the Blues for the, something or other, and then we set off that bomb thingy and we got blasted through time, and we met an alien, and that guy got pregnant."

Simmons looked on the screen. "According to this, that is… Scenario 3."

Sarge dropped his shotgun and it cluttered to the floor. "_Three?!_"

"Why us though?" Grif asked confused.

"Let me see, let me see…" Simmons scrolled down the info until he found a passage. "'Bases are outfitted with matching weapons and vehicles to ensure long conflict and are staffed by… low level operatives'?"

"Hey, who's that report calling low level?" Grif scowled. "Stupid report. Punch it."

Simmons kept reading. "'The candidates for Red and Blue squads will be culled from enlisted army ranks based on low test scores and poor field skills so as not to be missed on our-'"

"That actually does sound like me," Grif admitted. "What about you? I thought you were smart. Did you have low test scores too?"

"Hey, those time limits aren't fair," Simmons snapped. "It should be important that I _know_ the information, not how fast I know it."

"Geez, guess I hit a nerve."

"And don't even get me started on the No. 2 pencils."

"Well, Sarge, I always said Command was full of-" Grif turned to look at his leader, just in time to see him disappear down the ramp. "Sarge?"

Grif and Simmons ran out the control room and into the storage area, where they came across Caboose standing in front of some crates stacked in such a way that it looked almost like a fortress.

"Ah that's good," Caboose called out. "Er, maybe a little to the left."

"What is all this?" Grif gasped.

"Oh, this is new Red Base," Caboose replied. "Welcome."

"When did you build this?" Simmons asked baffled.

"Oh, I didn't build this. Your Sergeant did."

"What?" Grif cried. "He built _this?_ When?"

"Oh, just now."

"He walked out of the room like ten seconds ago!"

"Oh he got sad about something so he's making a Red Base here. And I am helping. I am great at building forts. See, I already built a Blue Base." Caboose pointed to a wooden chair and a sofa that had a blanket on the top and a pillow underneath. "Ours has blankets."

Just then, Sarge appeared on the top of one of the crates. "Go away!"

"Sarge, what is all this?" Simmons shouted.

"Simmons, didn't you hear?" Sarge replied. "We're cannon fodder. Practice! Well, if I'm the leader of junk, I may as well have a base made _out_ of junk! Pretty appropriate, right?"

Grif glanced at the fort for a moment. "It looks like shit."

"That was rhetorical, dirtbag!"

Simmons smiled politely. "Well Sir, this is an excellent strategy. The Blues will never-"

"_Blues?_" Sarge bowed his head in dismay. "Simmons, don't you get it? Grif was right all along."

"Thank you Sir," Grif said.

"Don't call me that anymore."

Simmons stepped closer. "Sarge, this place is one lie after another. We don't know if-"

"Oh, we know," Sarge cut in, pulling off his helmet. "_I_ know. You wanna fool yourself, go ahead."

"You're just upset, Sir."

"**Don't** call me that!" Sarge tossed his helmet down and it rolled along the ground, coming to a stop at Simmons' feet.

"What? Call you what?"

"Sir. From now on, you call me by my name: Sarge. Or S-Dog. I'm not in charge anymore. **I quit.**" Sarge then turned and marched back into his 'base'.

Simmons was completely stunned. "You what?"

"Uh oh," Grif muttered. "I get the feeling somebody else's world just got rocked."

"Yeah," Caboose agreed, stepping away from Simmons. "I'll start working on another fort."

Meanwhile on Sidewinder, Tex had left the outpost and was making her way across the snowy fields. Epsilon ran to catch up to her. "Tex, stop! Where are we going?"

Tex stopped walking and turned to face him. "There's only one person left who knows what happened to me; the Director."

"The Director?" Epsilon gasped. "Nobody even knows who he is."

"I can think of two people who might know; Wash and the Meta."

"Wash and Meta, are you kidding me?" Epsilon stared into her eyes. "Tex, forget all this. What if they don't even know?"

Tex narrowed her eyes. "Then I get to kill Wash and Meta. If I can't find the Director, I'll just dismantle everything he ever built."

Epsilon turned to look back at Avalanche. "Tex, I think the Director built all this for _you._"

Tex just scoffed. "Even more reason to burn it all to the ground."

"Facing Wash and Meta is suicide, even if we knew where they were. We don't. How the hell are you gonna find them?"

"They'll find us."

"Oh, so what, we just hole up and wait for them to come without ever even knowing when that's gonna be?"

"No," Tex replied, drawing her pistol out. "They'll come now."

"_How?_ Are you just gonna call them on the phone?"

"Something like that…" Then Tex pointed her pistol at Epsilon and fired.

With a cry of pain, Epsilon fell to the ground and clutched his wounded leg. "Tex?"

Tex holstered her gun and stepped up to him. "I needed you to come. Sheila said the recovery beacon wouldn't activate until we left the storage facility."

Epsilon looked up in shock. "What?"

"I didn't ask to be paired with you," she scowled. "I didn't wanna come back. But I'm here now, so I'm gonna put an end to this."

Epsilon tried to stand but the pain in his leg was too much. "Tex, I would have helped you."

"You can't even help yourself," Tex retorted. "That's why you made _me,_ Church. You made me to take on all the things you can't handle, just like you always have. Well, guess what? I'm gonna handle it. Wash and Meta will be coming now. I have some things to get ready."

She turned to go, but Epsilon grabbed her arm. "Tex… why are you doing this?"

"Funny you should ask," Tex chuckled, pulling her arm free. "That's _exactly_ what I plan to find out."

At that moment at Sandtrap, Washington was pacing around the campsite when he heard a loud bleeping alarm. "What is that? Where is that coming from?" Then info scrolled up inside his helmet and he gasped. "It can't be."

Just then the Meta came running up to him and let out an astonished growl.

"I'm getting it too," Wash confirmed. "I should have known he might end up there."

"What is it?" Doc called out.

"It's a recovery beacon." Wash's face became very serious. "It's him; it's Epsilon. Doc, go get a vehicle. Meta, you grab the memory unit."

The Meta snatched the capture unit off the workbench and attached it to his back while Doc put on his helmet and ran towards the parked jeeps. "But where are we going?"

Wash turned to face the horizon. "We're going to the only place that's left."

* * *

**Oh boy, we're about to reach the epic climax!**


	18. Rally Cap

**We're now only three episodes away from completing the trilogy.**

* * *

Chapter 18: Rally Cap

At the Freelancer Offsite Storage Facility, Caboose entered the control room to search for another chair for his fort when he saw FILSS flashing a warning on her screen.

"Alarm, incoming recovery beacon, level Zero!" FILSS announced. "Alarm, incoming recovery beacon, level Zero!"

Caboose looked at the info scrolling onto the screen and gasped in horror. "Oh no!"

Meanwhile, Washington, Doc and the Meta had acquired a Warthog and tore across the desert, following the coordinates of the recovery beacon. They soon left the desert, drove through a thick forest and finally reached the frozen wastes of Sidewinder.

After a while, Wash spotted a cobalt blue figure lying motionless on the snowy field. "There he is. Something doesn't seem right here. Stop the car."

Doc hit the brakes and stared at him confused. "Stop?"

"I don't like this," Wash muttered, getting out of the jeep. "How did he get hurt? Why isn't anyone else helping him?"

Behind the turret, the Meta growled and pointed at Epsilon.

Wash looked round just as Epsilon rolled over and he could just see that the Blue's helmet had been removed and his mouth had been duct-taped shut. "You're right, this is a trap." He looked up at the mountain nearby. "Those walls there, perfect for a sniper. We walk in to where he's hurt and suddenly we're boxed in, nowhere to go."

Doc glanced around nervously. "You think the Reds are tryin' to ambush us?"

"The Reds?" Wash burst out laughing and even the Meta let out a hissing snigger. "No. This is an actual military tactic. We drilled it all the time in training." He took a cautious step forward. "No, whoever set this up is a Freelancer."

"Yeah," Doc muttered. "But if a Freelancer set this up, wouldn't they know that you guys were Freelancers, and that you would recognize this as soon as you saw it?"

"What?" Wash cried. "No, you're overthinking it. That's just-" Suddenly there was a loud beeping noise below them and Wash looked down… to see ten landmines lighting up around the jeep in a perfect circle. "Oh, son of a bitch."

"Told you so," Doc sighed – just before the mines exploded!

Back at the Facility, Caboose ran into the storage room and rushed over to the 'Red Base' where Tucker was waiting and the Reds were sulking. "Sergeant, Sergeant!"

Sarge looked up from his seat in a parked Warthog. "What do you want, Blue?"

"I need your help!" Caboose cried.

On the crates, Simmons looked down in confusion. "_Our_ help?"

"Yes," Caboose replied. "Church is hurt. They must have gotten to him and Tex."

Tucker gasped in horror but Grif just shrugged his shoulders. "They got Tex? _Good,_ that just means she won't be able to beat the hell out of us anymore."

"No!" Caboose yelled. "We have to rescue them."

"_Rescue_ them, are you nuts?" Grif scoffed. "No one told them to leave. They're on their own."

"**But they'll die!**" Caboose screamed. "Sergeant, please."

"Uh, hey dude," Grif spoke up. "I don't know if you've picked up on this yet, but if you wanna convince Sarge to do anything, I don't think the best argument is 'the Blues might die if we don't.'"

But Sarge proved him wrong by grabbing his shotgun, jumping out of the jeep and stepping up to the Blues. "Cowboy up, Caboose, I'm comin' with you."

Grif was so shocked that his jaw dropped through his helmet and bounced off his boots. "What?"

"I said I'm helping him," Sarge replied.

"Who, the Blue guy? Why on Earth would you ever help a Blue for no reason?"

Sarge ignored him. "We need weapons. How'd your equipment test go, Simmons?"

"About as well as you would expect," Simmons admitted.

"That's too bad," Sarge sighed.

Grif turned away and folded his arms. "Well, I'm not going, and you can't make me. You quit, remember? I don't take orders from you anymore. And besides, this whole Command structure thing was bullshit anyway. We all know _that_ now."

Sarge looked up and nodded at him. "I'm not tellin' you ta go. I'm not even askin'."

Grif spun round in shock. "You're not?"

"Nope," Sarge replied. "I'm goin'. That's it. You wanna come, come on. But I don't expect you to. Simmons will probably tell you that statistically, some of us will probably die."

"All of us," Simmons corrected.

**(Cue dramatic music.)**

"_All_ of us will probably die. But that's not what's important." Sarge looked up at his two privates with a serious face. "Let me ask you two a question: You ever wonder why we're here?"

Grif swapped a puzzled look with Simmons then rubbed his chin in thought. "Um, it does seem to be one of life's greatest mysteries."

"_No,_ I mean **you!**" Sarge yelled. "What are _you_ doing here? You always act like you wanna quit, but hell, you could've left whenever you wanted. No one would have stopped ya. So why are you here? And you, Simmons."

Simmons looked round in confusion. "Me?"

"You say you wanna be in charge. They would have given you your own squad a _dozen_ times over. You know it, and I know it. But you're _still here_." Sarge then turned to the Blues. "And you, Tucker. As much as I hate to admit it, you're actually good at being a soldier."

"I am?" Tucker gasped.

"I know you like to make your rude comments and pretend like it doesn't matter. But an entire alien race chose you to be their hero! So why are _you_ here? And Caboose…" Sarge paused for a moment. "Uhhhh, it's good to see you."

"Thanks." Caboose let out a sniff. "I'm really enjoying the speech so far."

Sarge climbed onto the jeep's bonnet so he could address the whole room. "Maybe you're all here because this is the only place you fit in. Maybe you're here because you don't have anywhere else to go. Maybe you're all here because deep down, you _want_ to be here. The reason doesn't matter. What matters is that you're here! For all we know, Tex and Church are dead. That means we're the only ones who know what's happening; the only ones who can prevent them from covering it up." He narrowed his eyes and his voice became deadly serious. "So the way I figure it, these Freelancer guys wanna _use_ us, take us away from our families and send us all over the dang gum Galaxy just to test if their agents are ready for the big fight? Well, I guess I'm interested in showing 'em _exactly_ what a big fight is all about. Time to clean the slate. So I'm not ordering you to go. I ain't even askin'. You do what you gotta do, Private Grif."

**(*bursts into applause* Woohoooo! Great speech Sarge, great speech!)**

Grif thought it over then bowed his head with a sigh. "I'll go get my car keys."

"Alright then." Sarge jumped off the bonnet, picked up his helmet and slipped it over his crew cut. "Let's move."

"I don't think a jeep will get us there soon enough," Simmons called. "But I think I know what we _can_ use."

He led Sarge, Grif and the Blues out of the storage area and towards a room marked 'Garage'. Once inside, he stepped aside and waved his hand towards one of the parked vehicles. "This."

Grif stared at it with wide eyes. "Man, who the hell is gonna drive that?" He then became of everyone staring at him. "Why is everyone looking at me?"

* * *

**Alright! Once more unto the breach, dear Reds and Blues, once more.**


	19. Reunion

**Okay, I can do this, I can do this, don't get nervous. Do it for the readers… Alright, here's part one of the epic finale!**

* * *

Chapter 19: Reunion

At Sidewinder, Washington slowly came to and lifted his hands to see them stained with blood – his blood. Coughing loudly, he glanced around and spotted Doc lying by the jeep, the Meta slowly getting to his feet and a black figure approaching him, assault rifle in its hands. "It can't be…" he gasped. "Tex?"

Looking around, he spotted a rifle nearby and dived towards it but Tex ran forward, flipped him onto his back and pointed her gun at his face. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Don't sound so disappointed, you'll make me cry," Tex sneered. "Where's the Director?"

"The Director?" Wash gasped. "How would I know that?"

Tex tut-tutted in disapproval. "Wrong answer."

Her finger squeezed the trigger but then the Meta tackled her and sent her flying off Wash. He then charged forward but Tex caught him in a powerful punch, knocking him to the ground. With a growl of anger, the Meta jumped up and threw powerful jabs at her which she easily blocked. Then she kneed him in the head and kicked him back.

She then lifted a detonator and set off some explosives by her feet, revealing a powerful chain gun which she grabbed in midair before swinging it towards the Meta and opening fire. With a growl of shock, the Meta ran across the field faster than the bullets before diving behind an icy boulder.

Behind her, Wash felt the healing unit do its magic so he got to his feet and whipped out the capture unit.

At that moment, Tex's gun ran out of ammo and the Meta took this moment to whip out his pistol and return fire. Tex ducked behind an icy stalagmite, smashed through the ice and drew out two sub machine guns which she fired at the Meta. Wash then ran up to her and thrust the unit's spike at her, parrying one of her guns away, but she ducked the blow and knocked it out of his hands.

"NO!" Wash dived forward and grabbed the unit just before it fell over the cliff. "Be more careful, this thing can't take any more hits!"

During the battle, Doc ran over to the wounded Epsilon and pulled the tape off his mouth, making the Blue yelp. "Church, are you okay?"

"She fucking shot me!" Epsilon yelled, sitting up carefully. "What is wrong with her?"

"She did?" Doc gasped. "That's what brought us to you!"

"I know! She meant to do that!"

Doc looked over his shoulder. "Well, she's paying for it now."

Epsilon turned round and saw that the Meta had Tex pinned to the ground, trying to wrestle her gun away but she kicked him backwards towards a wall of ice. As Washington rejoined his colleague, she jumped to her feet and pulled out another detonator.

"Is that a-" Tex pressed the button and a loud beeping started behind them. Wash spun round and saw a row of mines built into the wall. "-MOUNTAIN?!"

Just then the mines went off and the wall shattered into huge blocks that went tumbling towards the two ex-Freelancers who set off running. Wash stabbed at Tex again with the unit but she ducked aside and kicked him away. Then the Meta charged forward and punched aside.

Wash tossed the unit towards him. "Meta, take it! Hit her!"

As the blocks crashed around them, the Meta grabbed the unit and swung out at her but she ducked away. Wash then leapt up to do a jump-kick at her head, but Tex dodged it and flung him to the ground. The Meta then kicked her in the chest, right under a huge shard of ice! Quickly she rolled away to avoid getting crushed then the Meta kicked it out at her but she jumped onto it and flipped away.

Wash leapt onto another large icicle and ran along its length, firing at Tex. She landed on a block and vaulted over it, followed closely by the Meta. As Tex landed, a boulder landed behind her and she punched out towards the two men. Wash ducked aside and the Meta pushed off it towards Tex. She ran up another piece of ice and intercepted him in midair, grabbing him by the chin and bending him backwards over her shoulders. As she landed, she threw him up and kicked him in the back towards Wash who dived out of the way.

Wash then raised his battle rifle and fired at Tex but she dived behind an icy boulder where after a moment of delay, she drew out a third detonator and hit the button. At once a line charges went off under the ice twenty feet from her and as the mountain shelf began to crumble, she took off for the safety of the other side but then Wash fired at her and she screamed in pain as the bullet hit her shoulder, landing on the ice sheet.

Wash suddenly realized that the ground was moving and he looked round to see the shelf cracking and breaking as it fell towards the icy water below. "Oh my God! RUN!"

He and the Meta tore across the shelf towards the ever-growing abyss, leaping over cracks and side-stepping the sliding boulders. As they reached the edge of the shelf, the Meta spotted his brute shot falling over the cliff and leapt straight towards it.

"Meta, wait!" Wash called out. The Meta snatched his weapon in midair then slammed the blade into the icy sheet before pulling himself up the cliff. "God dammit!"

Acting quickly, Doc dashed up to the wrecked Warthog, pulled out a tow-hook then ran up to the edge of the cliff. "WASH, here! Take this!"

"Doc?!" Wash gasped, waving his hands above his head. "Throw it, throw it!"

"Here it comes!" Doc tilted his arm back and threw the tow-hook out… and it fell straight down the cliff.

"You've got to be kidding me," Wash groaned in exasperation. He then took a step back, ran along the shelf and leapt for the tow-cable, grabbing onto the hook and slamming into the cliff face.

He watched as the ice shelf crashed down into the frozen waters below then he hauled himself up the cable to the top of the cliff where Doc pulled him up. "That was the second worst throw, ever, of all time."

"What do you want from me?" Doc muttered. "I ran track at high school."

Meanwhile the Meta ran up to Tex as she struggled to her feet. As the Meta swung the blade end of his brute shot at her, she parried it with her combat knife then punched him back. As he stumbled back, she dashed forward and slashed across his stomach then stabbed him in his left shoulder. With a roar of pain, the Meta pointed his brute shot at the ground and then fired, sending them flying and knocking Tex down. As she fell, her ring on the chain slipped off her neck and landed by a snowdrift.

Wash ran up to them as the Meta grabbed the capture unit and hauled Tex to her feet. "Meta, wait! We don't need to hurt her, we only need-"

But the Meta ignored him and stabbed the unit's spike right through her visor. Tex cried out as she felt herself leaving her body and entering the unit before her body fell limp.

"NOOOOOO!" Epsilon screamed.

With a growl of satisfaction, the Meta drew the unit out and flung Tex's body towards the stunned Epsilon. "Stop! Let her outta that thing!"

"We can't, the unit is failing." Wash then turned his attention to the AI. "Epsilon, it's over. You're coming with us."

"I'm not going _anywhere_ with you!" Epsilon snapped as Doc got him to his feet. "We can fight you!"

"We can?" Doc gulped.

"We _will!_" Epsilon replied.

"Aw, great," Doc sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Wash retorted. "Meta, give me the memory unit." But the Meta didn't respond. "Meta?"

Wash turned round and saw that the Meta was staring at the unit in his hands. Then he glanced at Wash and lifted the unit to his back.

"Meta, NO! Wait!" Wash cried.

But it was too late. The Meta plugged the unit into his back and then he pressed a button on his left wrist and vanished into thin air.

"Dammit!" Wash yelled. "Doc, you have to protect Epsilon!"

"What do I do?" Doc yelped.

"RUN!"

The Meta charged past him and then opened fire on Epsilon. Doc threw his arm around Epsilon's shoulder and half-led, half-dragged him across the field. Quickly Wash jumped onto the Meta's back and threw his arms around his neck. "I'll try to hold him!"

But the Meta threw him off and continued to fire. Wash drew out his pistol and fired in retaliation but the Meta fired a shot at him and sent him flying. With a hiss of triumph, the Meta stomped towards him.

"I knew you would do this, Meta," Wash groaned, struggling to his feet. "I just can't believe…" His voice trailed off as he looked over the Meta's shoulder. "…can't believe…" His eyes widened and he gasped. "I can't believe it!"

The Meta whirled round and saw what Wash was staring at. Diving out of the sky, trailing dark smoke was a Pelican-Class drop ship and through the windscreen, he could see five figures in the flight deck, four of whom he recognized as the simulation troops that foiled his plans months before.

Inside the Pelican, Sarge pointed over Grif's shoulder at the snowy plain below. "There they are! Land right next to 'em!"

"Right," Grif muttered nervously. "Land…"

"You do know how to land this vehicle, don't you?"

"Sure. That just means stop flying, right?"

"Brace for impact!" Sarge yelled.

"Oh shit!" Tucker cried, placing his hands over his visor. "This is gonna suck!"

"I still haven't got my peanuts," Caboose shouted.

At once the Pelican dropped right out of the sky and crashed right into the field, skidding along the ground. Washington jumped out of the way as the ship ran right over the Meta. Epsilon dived behind a nearby tree but Doc ran the other way towards the cliff, stopping on the edge and closing his eyes, bracing for the impact of the million ton ship. But miraculously, the ship stopped just inches from his face.

Doc glanced nervously up to see the Pelican's passengers pressed right up against the glass, all except for Caboose who had remembered to put on his seatbelt. "Wow! That was a close one!"

The Reds and Tucker just groaned as they fell off the glass and crashed to the ground. Doc quickly got out of the way.

Wash peeked out from behind the tree. "I _would_ say that was the cavalry, but I've never seen a line of horses crash into the battle field from outer space before."

Epsilon glanced round from the other side of the tree. "Hey, is it possible for a memory fragment out of an artificial intelligence program enclosed inside a robotic body to piss its pants? Because I'm pretty sure I just did that."

Wash grimaced and stepped away from the tree. "Come on; let's go see how many of your friends survived that."

"You know, they're not really my friends."

"That's okay," Wash reassured as they ran towards the Pelican. "I'm sure none of them really survived."

Fortunately they had survived and were now staggering out of the Pelican.

Sarge stepped up to the side in anger. "Grif, look what you did to our ship!"

"Ah, fuck it, it's a rental," Grif dismissed.

"Good point. Fuck it." Sarge kicked the ship and it tumbled over the edge into the waters below.

Epsilon then ran up to them and as Wash came up from behind, he recognized the Reds and Caboose and his helmet scanner identified the fifth soldier as Private First Class Lavernius Tucker.

"Has anybody seen Tex?" Epsilon asked urgently.

"I'm sorry, Epsilon," Wash sighed. "The Meta captured her inside of the memory unit."

Epsilon glanced around the field for a moment. "There she is!" He hobbled up to where the unit was lying on top of the snowdrift where Tex's ring was. "She's here!"

"Epsilon, there's nothing we can do," Wash insisted. "She's stuck in there."

"So let her out!" Epsilon demanded.

Wash shook his head. "We rigged it so it's one way. We didn't want you to escape again."

"Well, _un_rig it!"

"I need to get it to a lab, somewhere with tools."

Epsilon glanced over to the Reds. "Simmons?"

"Hey, he's the expert," Simmons said with a shrug. "I don't know what I can do to help."

"And it's in no condition to move," Wash added. "If it locks down before I can open it, she'll be trapped in there."

"We should try _something_," Simmons declared.

Wash glanced at the unit then sighed and turned to Epsilon. "If I let her out, you have to come with me."

"_Yes, fine,_ just get her out," Epsilon conceded.

Wash nodded then turned to the Blues. "Caboose, Tucker, get in the base and see if you can find some tools."

"Okay," Caboose replied.

"Alright," Tucker agreed. "I'll be right back."

As they set off towards Avalanche, Wash then turned to the Reds. "You three find me anything that has power, anything and everything. We're going to need a lot of power to keep it online."

"On it!" Sarge replied, leading his team after the Blues.

Epsilon meanwhile was still staring at the unit. "I can get her out."

"What?" Wash gasped. "No."

"It's my only option," Epsilon said.

He stepped towards the unit but Wash held him back. "I need you, Epsilon. You're my only ticket out of this mess. If you get stuck in there, they'll never believe me. I'm not going back to prison."

"I can do it."

"No, I won't let you."

"You can't stop me," Epsilon yelled, pushing Wash aside. "I have to help her. She's here because of us."

Wash was puzzled. "Because of _me?_"

"Not you, _us,_" Epsilon corrected. "Me, and Alpha, and the Director."

Wash stared at him in amazement. "You've started to remember."

Epsilon sighed and nodded. "I found some journals from the Director. She's someone from his life, someone he loved…"

"Allison," Wash said. "Her name was Allison."

"Allison…" Epsilon knelt down painfully and picked up the ring from the snow. "This belonged to her. It was the engagement ring the Director gave her, before the War. Tex stole it when she broke in to rescue Alpha." He glanced at the unit. "When they made Alpha, she came back. She was a byproduct of the process."

"She's just a shadow," Wash said.

"Don't call her that!" Epsilon snapped. "She died in her real life, and that's all the Director ever remembered of her. So now, no matter how tough she is, no matter how hard she fights, she's always going to fail, because that's what she's based on. No matter what she's doing, or what she's trying to accomplish, _just_ when her goal is within her reach, it gets yanked away. **Every, Single, Time.** Can you imagine what that's like?"

Suddenly Wash heard a growl next to them and looked round in horror. "I think I'm getting the idea…"

Epsilon whirled round to see the unit floating in midair and then the Meta uncloaked in front of it and growled at them. "Uh oh…"

* * *

**Oh man, that is so not good.**


	20. n plus 1

**We have now reached the last part of our epic battle and of course the last chapter in the Recollections Trilogy!**

* * *

Chapter 20: n+1

At the Avalanche outpost, Caboose and Tucker wandered through the hallways gathering tools while the Reds searched among the crates.

"Simmons, what are we looking for?" Grif asked.

"I don't know, power cells, batteries, anything," Simmons yelled, rummaging through a closet.

"How is a power cell different from a battery?"

"Grif, this is not the time!"

Suddenly there was a loud explosion from outside, followed by some shots.

Sarge looked towards the main entrance. "Hey, did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I did," Simmons replied, drawing out his rocket launcher. "Come on, Grif, let's go!"

"Aren't we supposed to run away from explosions?" Grif yelled, running after his teammates.

The Reds, Caboose and Tucker raced outside just as Epsilon crashed into the snow in front of them, his body sparking badly. "Ow!"

"What happened?" Sarge cried.

"The Meta… there…" Epsilon pointed out and everyone turned to see Washington firing at the Meta next to the wrecked Warthog.

"And I was afraid we wouldn't get to kick a little ass today," Sarge chuckled, taking out his shotgun. "Come on, fellas!"

Tucker switched on his sword then turned to his teammate. "Caboose, stay with Church!"

"Okay," Caboose replied.

"And try not to kill him by accident!"

"Okay!"

The Meta opened fire and Wash dived aside to avoid the hit. The Meta charged towards him, brute shot blade raised but Wash whipped out his knife and parried the blow. He then sliced him in the shoulder but the Meta cloaked himself and ducked aside.

Wash stopped and glanced around the field then he spotted the snow being shifted in one side and he threw the blade towards the movement. As it hit, the Meta uncloaked with a roar of pain. Wash raised his battle rifle and opened fire, but the Meta shot a rocket out and sent Wash flying back under the Warthog.

The Meta stomped forward to deliver the finishing blow but then a plasma grenade whooshed over his head and he whirled round to see the Reds and Tucker come charging towards him.

"Attack!" Sarge bellowed.

"Get him!" Simmons yelled.

"We're gonna fucking die!" Grif screamed.

The Meta growled in annoyance and ran towards them.

As they charged, the Reds and Tucker took out plasma grenades and threw them out but the Meta pressed a button on his right wrist then slammed his hand into the ground, summoning a huge domed shield around him that blocked the blows. He then leapt out through an opening at the top and fired at Grif and Tucker who quickly rolled out of the way.

Simmons then raised his rocket launcher up and fired at the Meta. "Fire in the hole!"

But the Meta nimbly flipped over the rocket and landed in front of Simmons, slicing his launcher in half with the brute shot blade. Tucker then raised his sword and swung it out but the Meta parried the blow then knocked him aside. Sarge raised his shotgun and fired but the Meta blocked that too.

Then, in a rare act of bravery, Grif pounced onto the Meta's back and grabbed him by the neck, throwing him off-balance. "Whoa! This guy's like a bear!"

The Meta grabbed Grif and threw him off, but as he fell, Grif snatched the brute shot out of his hands. "Yoink!"

Sarge charged forward to tackle him but the Meta punched him to the ground then grabbed him by the leg, swung him round twice and flung him into Grif and Simmons. "Ow, dammit!"

Tucker then ran forward and thrust his sword right through the Meta's chest. "Stab!"

As the Meta grappled with Tucker, Sarge ran over to the Warthog where the wounded ex-Freelancer lay. "Wash come on, we need help!"

"I can't," Wash groaned. "I'm done…"

"Guys, I can't fight him by myself!" Tucker yelled out.

Wash then grabbed something nearby and held it up to Sarge. "Here… Take this… You know what to do."

Sarge stared at the object for a moment then he nodded, took it from Wash and placed it on his belt.

Still clinging to the sword in the Meta's chest, Tucker threw out a punch but the Meta ducked then knocked Tucker away. As he did, the sword deactivated and fell into the snow. Then the Meta felt a round of shot hit his armor, smashing his visor, and he spun round to see Sarge pointing his shotgun out. "Come here, you big son of a bitch!"

With a growl, the Meta stomped towards Sarge. Sarge stepped closer firing his shotgun with each step but the Meta's armor blocked each hit and his visor lost a bit more glass.

Grif looked up and stared at the sight. "What's he doing?"

"It looks like he's killing himself," Simmons gasped.

"Oh no!"

As the Meta drew closer, Sarge fired another round and his visor shattered completely. With an angry growl, he pulled off his helmet, revealing his face. He was completely bald with a strange tattoo on the back of his neck, he had an angry grimace on his face and his eyes were cold and lifeless. Sarge fired again, but the Meta ducked the next shot then he knocked the shotgun away, grabbed Sarge by the throat and began to choke him one-handed.

"Hey Grif," Sarge gasped. "I've lost my shotgun! What am I gonna do without my _shotgun?_ Shotgun, dammit!"

"_Shot_gun?" Grif turned towards the wrecked Warthog then he noticed the long cable snaking along the snow and realization hit. "Come on, Simmons!"

As Sarge felt his life ebbing away, he pulled off the object on his belt and attached it to the Meta's chest plate. "Hey Meta, settle a bet, would you?" He then nodded to his right. "Does that thing kind of look like a big cat to you?"

The Meta looked round and spotted Grif and Simmons pushing the wrecked jeep towards the cliff edge.

"Come on, push Grif!" Simmons grunted.

"I am pushing!" Grif yelled.

Quickly the Meta looked down and realized that Sarge had attached one of the jeep's tow-hooks onto his armor. But by then it was too late. Simmons and Grif shoved the jeep right over the edge, and just as the cable tightened, Sarge grabbed the capture unit from the Meta's back. As the Meta was thrown off his feet, Sarge fell to the ground and the unit flew up, landing next to Epsilon, Caboose and Doc.

With a roar of agony, the Meta was dragged along the ground towards the cliff, his arms flailing for something to grab. As he neared the edge, he caught hold of Grif's leg and dragged him down after him. "Whah!"

"Grif!" Simmons screamed, racing after them.

"Simmons, grab my hand!" Grif yelled. "Help!"

Just as he reached the edge, Simmons dived forward and grabbed Grif's outstretched hand. The sudden stop caused the Meta to lose his grip and he fell with a distraught roar down into the frozen sea and to his death.

"Hold on!" Simmons yelled at Grif. "Don't let go!"

But as Sarge got to his feet, he could see that Grif was starting to slip out of Simmons' grasp. "Uh oh."

Then the inevitable happened.

"Grif!" Simmons screamed as Grif fell.

"SIMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONS!" Grif yelled, disappearing over the edge.

Tucker and Sarge ran up and helped Simmons to his feet. Simmons stared at the edge in stunned horror. "He's… gone…"

"Yes, Grif is dead," Sarge murmured. "It's a sad day. But he died as he lived, trying to get someone to do his work for him. He will be missed, until we get a replacement, and then forgotten about immediately."

Simmons turned away from the cliff, Freon tears streaking his cyborg face. "I can't believe he's gone…"

Tucker glanced at the edge. "You know, sometimes when somebody falls off a cliff in movies, he's actually just over the edge hanging on a tree branch or something."

"Nope," Sarge sighed. "He's definitely dead."

Simmons looked round in hope. "Maybe we should look, just in case."

"I think looking would get our hopes up," Sarge breathed, leading his teammate away. "And Grif wouldn't like that. "Grif would want our expectations to be as low as possible. Let's honor him by not looking. And then have a nice lunch. I'm thinking Monte Cristo sandwich."

"Are you sure? I could just peek right over the edge."

"It sounds like a waste of time."

"It wouldn't even take a second."

"Nope."

"Oh for God's sake, just look over the damn edge!" Grif's voice rang out. "I can't hold on for much longer!"

At this, Sarge and Simmons ran up to the edge and looked down… to see Grif hanging from his stolen brute shot that he'd stuck right into the ice.

"Grif!" Simmons cried joyfully.

"Dangling on the job again, I see," Sarge scowled. "Dang nabbit, I hate cliffhangers."

"Oh, just pick me up," Grif yelled.

Meanwhile Epsilon had limped over to the capture unit but Doc was looking very unsure. "Yeah, I don't know. It's in really bad shape, and so are you."

"There's not much time," Epsilon declared, letting off more sparks. "I need you to use it on me."

"Me?" Doc cried. "I can't! I'm a medic! I took an oath!"

"Oh yeah, the first is 'do no harm', right?"

"Well, actually now first is 'lobby against socialist reform.' But second is yeah, that no harm thing."

Epsilon then turned to his friend. "Caboose, here, pick it up."

"I can't, Church," Caboose whispered.

"Yes, you can," Epsilon insisted. "You do this all the time."

Caboose stepped away from the unit. "Yeah, I don't want to."

"Yeah, okay," Epsilon conceded. "Ok, Caboose, I'm sure I can do it on my own." He then stepped out of his damaged body, letting it slump to the ground.

"But what if you don't come out again?" Caboose cried.

Epsilon placed a reassuring hand onto Caboose, not easy when he's see-through. "Well, you know what Delta always said, right?"

"Memory is the key," Caboose recalled.

"If I don't come back, you're in charge of remembering me, ok?" Epsilon stepped towards the unit then looked back. "Don't let Tucker help; he'll just fuck it up. Bye, buddy." He then knelt down, closed his eyes and placed his hand on the spike sticking out. The unit flashed out so brightly that Doc and Caboose had to cover their eyes and when the light faded, Epsilon was gone.

Just then Sarge came running up, Simmons just behind him. "What's going on here?"

"Church went in," Caboose replied, pointing at the humming flashing unit. "He's going to find her."

"That unit looks bad." Simmons knelt down and picked it up carefully. "Let me see what I can do to stabilize it."

"Doc, go check on Wash," Sarge ordered. "I don't think he's gonna make it."

As Doc ran up to the wounded Freelancer, Simmons suddenly let out a gasp. "_Oh no!_"

"What?" Caboose cried. "What?"

"It's only going to be open for a few more seconds," Simmons replied. "After that, he'll be trapped."

"Come on, Church," Caboose yelled. "You can do it. Can you hear me? Run towards my voice!"

But the humming started to fade and the light dimmed. "It's shutting down!" Simmons cried. "I can't stop it!"

"Church, are you there?" Caboose screamed.

But then the humming stopped and the light shut down. Simmons bowed his head sadly and sighed. "Caboose… I'm sorry…"

Caboose fell to his knees in shock. "Church?"

Tucker and Grif ran up at this point, questioning looks on their faces. But when they saw Caboose burst into tears, they knew immediately and they, Sarge and Simmons bowed their heads in commiseration…

_Five hours later…_

The members of the UNSC Investigation Division scoured the field and the nearby base for all sorts of clues as to what had happened. They had heard news from the Oversight Sub-committee Chairman that something was going on at Sidewinder. When they arrived, they found two factions of simulation troopers; one Red and one Blue. So while the others gathered Tex's body and the remains of the battle, the leader of the group interrogated the two teams. "And where the hell did the Pelican in the water come from?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Tucker lied. "I guess the Meta must have hijacked it and crashed it here. That makes sense, right?"

"Man, the Chairman is going to be pissed," the leader sighed. "The budget only allows for one crashed Pelican per mission… All right, well I guess you guys check out. You can head back to your training bases now."

"We just call them bases," Sarge corrected.

"Hmph, I bet," the leader snorted.

"Hey, we solved _your_ problem," Grif pointed out. "Not bad for 'Trainees.'" **(Air-quote)**

"I gotta hand it to you," the leader admitted. "Killing one of these agents would be tough, but three? And this guy…" He turned to look at a grey-and-yellow armored body lying motionless in the snow. "The Chairman will not be happy he's dead. I think he wanted to debrief him personally. Oh well."

"Yeah," Tucker sighed.

"Yeah, that's too bad," Caboose agreed.

"Well, be sure to let him know we're sorry," a cobalt-blue armored Spartan added.

"Whatever," the leader muttered. "You're free to go. If we need you, we know where to find you." Then he went off to join his team.

The Reds and Blues watched him go then the cobalt Spartan reached up and pulled the blue duct tape off his shoulders – revealing yellow shoulder pads. "Why are you guys helping me?"

"You helped us, Wash," Caboose replied as he, Tucker and Grif tossed away the three spray-paint cans they'd hidden behind their backs. "It only makes sense."

"Yeah, plus we need to even the teams," Tucker added. "And I couldn't put up with Caboose constantly asking 'can we keep him? Can we keep him?'"

Washington smiled as he took off the tape on his helmet, exposing its yellow stripe. "For whatever it's worth… Thanks."

With that, the Blues set off across the snow field. As they passed Epsilon's painted body, Wash noticed Tex's ring lying nearby. He remembered what Epsilon had told him; that it belonged to the Director and he'd given it to Allison. He didn't know why Tex had stolen it but he had a feeling that the Director would probably want it back. So he knelt down, picked up the ring and placed it in his pocket then he set off after his new teammates back to their base.

Grif watched them leave then turned to his leader. "Well, looks like Blue Team has a new recruit, Sarge."

"He doesn't look so tough to me," Simmons muttered.

"Maybe this one can shoot," Sarge agreed. "Come on, fellas. Let's go home."

"Uh, the jeep's busted, Sarge," Grif pointed out. "Are we walking?"

"That depends…" Sarge looked over to where a Hornet-Class airship was landing. "You fellas gotten over your fear of flying yet?"

Simmons saw what he meant and nodded. "Yes Sir."

As the soldiers left to join his team, the Reds immediately jumped aboard and Grif leapt into the driver's seat and took off. "Yoink!"

"Hey!" the pilot yelled, running after them. "You can't take that! That's UNSC property! Get back here! Hey come on, I'll lose my job!"

Simmons glanced out the window nervously. "I hope this doesn't go on our permanent record!"

Meanwhile the leader made his way over to where a soldier was kneeling by a greenish unit. "Hey, chief, what do you want me to do with this thing?" he called out. "I can't get anything out of it; it's dead as a doornail."

"I don't care," the leader dismissed. "Toss it in evidence. It's all a bunch of junk now, anyway."

The soldier nodded and placed the unit into a nearby crate then he turned his attention on a purple medic who was asking for a lift back to Command.

But inside the unit, Epsilon was still searching for Tex.

_I'd like to say that I found her right away, that I just walked into the Epsilon unit and there she was, waiting for me. As you can probably guess, it didn't happen that way, but I know she's in here somewhere, and I'll find her. We always seem to find each other, for better or for worse._

As he searched, he could see memories drifting past him, memories of the Reds and Blues, memories of Washington, memories of the other AIs and very faint memories of the Director. As he looked at them, he stopped as an idea came to his mind.

_I don't know why the Director did what he did. I don't know if he was trying to revive a memory from his past, or if he was trying to get it out of his head. But I figured out something that the Director didn't. It took Alpha, Delta and all the rest to help me piece it together for me, but what I've learned, is that a great love is a lot like a good memory. When it's there and you know it's there, but it's just outta your reach, it can be all you think about. You can focus on it and try to force it, but the more you do, the more you seem to push it away. But if you're patient, and you hold still, then maybe… just maybe, it'll come to you._

He then closed his eyes and focused his attention on one of the memories.

_I just need to make sure I'm somewhere she can find me…_

After a while, he opened his eyes… and found himself standing outside a base in the middle of a small box canyon. He looked round for a while and then it came back to him: he was standing outside the Blue Base in the canyon known as Blood Gulch.

_I think this place is a little different than it was before. See, out there, everything is based on the Alpha, but in here, I guess I'm the Alpha. And maybe this time through, things'll be a little different for me as well. I guess I'll find out._

"Hey Church!"

Epsilon whirled round to see his teammates running out of the Base towards the cliffs.

"Church, come on," Tucker called out. "I think the Reds just got a new vehicle! Let's go check it out!"

"They only got a jeep!" Caboose agreed, following his teammate. "We got a tank! That's way better!"

With a smile, Epsilon – No, I'm Church now, he decided to himself – set off after his team. "Ok, I'll be right there!"

_And I mean, hell, if you have to live the rest of your life in a memory… You might as well make it a good one._

* * *

**Wow, now that is a great way to end.**

**Okay, I'll be taking a bit of a break from writing for now. But I will use the time to update my previous stories and correct any mistakes or grammar errors. And I hope to be back soon with my next story, which I have a feeling will be extremely difficult.**

**Until then, my thanks to all the readers for following my story and special thanks to snake screamer for help on two of the scenes.**

**Thank you and good night (or day, depending on the time zones)**


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